


The Legit Phantom Thief

by tea_cat



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Character Death, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Persona 5 Protagonist is from Inaba, Spoilers, Weekly Updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 100,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_cat/pseuds/tea_cat
Summary: Shido Masayoshi would take it upon himself to protect his reputation and do anything to better his chances of taking over Japan. It seems his limits are further than the 'accidental' murdering of a young boy in a small country town.Kurusu Akira was just trying to do good, trying to help a woman in need, when he died. He was going to die eventually, someday, so he can't really bring himself to be all that upset about it. Even when his murderer hires someone to clean up his bleeding body, and he somehow halfway comes back to life, he can't be all that upset about it. It's how he rolls.Akechi Goro is sick of dead people, his housemate in particular. He doesn't even really help on Metaverse missions much. But, sometimes he has to admit that it's nice to have someone to confide in. Especially when a talking cat shows up and accuses the two wild cards of being murderers.Goro couldn't care less. Everything he does is apart of a plan to stab his father in the back. Akira starts to feel a little guilty about killing people; leading the phantom thieves, as the only legit phantom, he strays away from Goro's destructive mindset, towards something with a little bit more mental stability established.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 32
Kudos: 88





	1. i actually fucking hate morgana xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster...when you gaze long into the abyss the abyss also gazes into you” 
> 
> ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Early Morning - 4/9

“Goro!”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, Goro!”

“Go away.”

“Just look at that cat! Doesn’t it look like it’s staring right at me?”

Fed up, Goro Akechi turns, playing up his annoyance with an obnoxiously loud sigh. The cat the other boy, Akira Kurusu, mentioned was a dark black, with yellow eyes. The same yellow eyes did appear to be watching Akira moving closely.

“No. I doubt it.” Goro, ever the skeptic, continues walking away. “You’re imagining things.”

“Do you think it can sense me? It’s proven that cats can see, like, supernatural beings.” Akira caught up to him, protesting. He never did know when to drop a conversation. Goro vaguely wonders if that trait was picked up before or after he died. He doesn’t recall him being this talkative when they first met. What a troublesome ghost to befriend.

“Cats stare at nothing all the time.” Goro moves to the edge of the sidewalk to let a bike pass. “And stop watching those stupid horror movies.”

Akira wiggles two fingers in front of his eyes, then points them to the cat. It hisses. Akira laughs in reply, now walking backwards besides Goro. If Goro was any nicer, and if Akira was any less dead, he would scold him for not being careful along a busy street. However, with how circumstances are right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Goro rubbed his temples and walked faster. He was in danger of being late to work. By keeping up his current pace and continuing to ignore the spirit presently running in and out of his body, still keeping his eyes on the stray. 

“I thought I told you to stop doing that. It makes me… cold.” It was an unnatural cold when Akira moved through his body. Not to mention when he possessed him. He should look into getting a lock; is that something that was possible? Maybe a thick padlock, or a code-activated lock, so Akira had to have the key or passcode. 

“Oh! Sorry, Goro, just playing with Morgana.” He giggled, circling Goro. 

“...Morgana? You named the cat?” Goro rolled his eyes. Maybe he really should’ve left the other at home today. There was little point to the spirit following him around all day, besides to avoid some cabin fever. Goro supposes it would be rather difficult for a teenage boy, perhaps a fairly social one, to suddenly be unable to talk to anyone, except a rude teen detective with no regard for friendships or niceties. 

Akira shook his head violently. “No, it’s on his tag. See? Morgana, of LeBlanc Cafe. Huh.” Akira spun to face Goro, who stumbled to avoid passing through him. “Do you think he’s lost? We have to take him to his home! I bet the owners miss him.”

Akira’s pale, slightly transparent face shined with compassion. On a good day, Goro would be more likely to indulge his ghost friend to a mission like that. However, Goro checked his watch, and he has no time to give a fuck about a dumb animal that can’t find its way back. Although…

“Why don’t you take him home?”

Akira paused, staring at Goro like he was the idiot here. 

“And how do you deduct that I do that, Detective Prince?”

He sighed, motioning for Akira to move so he could keep walking. “He’s been following you this way, correct? Just keep doing whatever you’re doing, in the direction of the cafe.”

Bullshitting was one of Goro’s most excellent talents. It didn’t matter to him if the cat decided it was bored of Akira, as long as he kept the ghost occupied for at least as long as it’d take for Goro to get to work. Maybe, if he was lucky, Akira would have so much fun playing with his new friend that he wouldn’t come back to bother him at all today. … That might be a little too fantastical a hope, even for a teen with an undead roommate. 

“Aha! I should’ve thought of that.” Akira pauses to make an ugly face at Morgana. “Wish me luck, Goro! Onward, Morgana of LeBlanc!”

He would not be wishing him luck. 

Daytime - 4/9

Akira found it a little awkward, taking a train by himself. Well, he had Morgana. The cat was still staring, softly meowing and trying to paw at his shins. He reassured the creature that they would find the cafe and everything would be put back in its place. Hopefully. The only problem was that Akira had little to no sense of direction. Usually, not being able to touch material objects didn't faze him, but right now he wanted more than anything to be able to use a GPS.

The pair got off the train at the first stop. The ghost had only to follow the cat. It seemed to know where he was going, even through the heavy throngs of dull characters trudging with their heads down. Getting around slow people was no trouble for a boy who could just float right through obstacles; even easier for a quick-footed feline.

They emerge onto a cobblestone back alley street. Akira hears some foreign music playing on a radio nearby, a wobbling washing machine, and the whistle of wind over clotheslines. He wasn’t sure somewhere as quiet as this could exist in Tokyo. It makes him miss Inaba, for everything that went wrong there, and for the friends he made that have long since forgotten about him. He doesn’t think of his parents often, as they rarely thought of him even when he existed with them, yet the subtle smell of spice and detergent.

A brick building on their left catches his eye. It appears to be a cafe, and Akira goes to gather Morgana up before he remembers he sort of can’t do that. There’s a little sign near the door that reads, ‘LeBlanc Cafe,’ and the address. He looks back at the golden collar, swinging as the black cat attempts to catch a roach on the pavement. It clearly says ‘LeBlanc.’ 

He’s a little sad to have found the location so fast. Should he just take Morgana to Goro’s apartment for the day? Perhaps the owners would be glad to have the furball out of their hands for a few hours longer.  
He finds himself again thinking of how easier it’d be to use Goro and his perfectly stable logical thinking to reach the level end. Sighing, he shook his head. The sooner poor Morgana of LeBlanc gets back to his family, the happier everyone will be. He had to focus on using the resources he had on hand. They must forge on!

Afternoon - 4/9

Goro had gotten a considerable amount of work done this day, without a certain pesky presence haunting his workspace. Without worrying about Akira getting bored and possessing his coffee mug, mouse, or stapler as per usual, he was able to completely focus on his tasks. And now that he didn’t have anything important to worrying about, he wondered how the other was doing on his quest. He felt perhaps the slightest bit giddy at the thought of having the rest of the day to himself. 

When was the last time he was truly alone for more than a few minutes at a time? Certainly not since February, when he was first acquainted with the spirit. He wonders what to do with his new-found, yet fleeting, freedom. He figures he should find the nearest shopping district, maybe buy something for the apartment. His toaster did break last month… Or there are those classy golden leaved bookends… He never gets much time shopping, as Akira more often than not gets distracted with some Phoenix Ranger Featherman R display, and Goro has to pretend to be reluctant to buy it for him. Speaking of Featherman, maybe he should just head back to the apartment and watch some old reruns. 

As he stands from his chair, grabbing his back like an old man that complains after changing the tv channel. Picking up his travel mug and phone, pushing his chair back under the desk. As he goes to turn off his laptop, to tuck it into his bag, Sae Niijima comes to his desk with the practiced air of a car show announcer. He withholds a groan, plastering a smile directed towards the woman.

“Akechi. Leaving already?” Niijima says, with an equally as puppeted grin. She lightly tapped her fingernails against the wooden surface, leaning her weight on her palm. Goro resisted the urge to completely dismiss her. 

“I’ve already completed today’s paperwork,” Goro replies. He hoists his bag higher onto his shoulder, putting away his laptop. Maybe if he continued getting ready to leave she would take the hint. As a legal prosecutor, he thinks she should be able to read people a little better than this. How disappointing. 

“Well, in that case. I’ve just to type up the end of this report,” she gestures to her open laptop at her desk. “Do you think we can walk to the trains together? I would like to discuss something with you. Possibly over some coffee?”

Goro’s attempt to disguise the look of shock that overtook his face apparently wasn’t as successful as he had hoped, as Niijima’s gaze flickered. He supposes she needs an answer. In his head, he says goodbye to his afternoon to himself.

He gives her a big smile. “Of course. I’ll be right here, take your time.” 

Evening- 4/9

Goro presumes he’s been standing in the same spot, shifting his bag from shoulder to shoulder for roughly thirty-five minutes. More than half-an-hour of his day wasted on waiting for the stuck-up prosecutor to finish her work. She had said she was nearly finished, but he supposes everyone has different definitions for universal words. At this point, he’d take Akira talking his head off while he was working over this.

Niijima had said she had something to talk about, and Goro was racking his brain trying to recall if anything significant had happened recently. Perhaps it was a personal matter? That almost made him chuckle. Sae Niijima discussing a personal matter with him? Surely that couldn’t be the case. They were coworkers, colleagues; that was the extent of their relationship. Purely professional. Goro couldn’t see himself discussing anything personal to someone that far away from him. 

The click of low heels brings his head up from its resting place against the wall. He turns to his senior, not bothering with a change of expression. He would very much like her to know how inconvenient this little ‘talk’ was ending up to be for him. His pointed look seemed to remain ineffective, as she gave him a tired smile and clapped her hands together.

“I thank you for waiting. Now, are you still up for coffee? I know a fantastic little spot,” Niijima preened. It didn’t register as a question in Goro’s mind; he very much had no say anymore in going or not. 

“Of course, Niijima. Thank you for inviting me.” He nodded for her to walk alongside him. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”

She scratched her cheek and looked up. It seemed she was thinking his question through.

“We can discuss that at the cafe. For now, I would just like to ask you: how are you?” The low lighting of the sun setting behind the office buildings paled her face. What a question that was. Truly. She wasn’t giving off many tells as to what the game was here. For now, he would have to learn from the pieces she was setting down.

“I’m doing well. Work has been plentiful, and I’m weeks ahead on classwork. I’ve also-”

“No, Akechi, I believe you misunderstood me. I asked after your wellbeing.” She held open the door to the station, allowing Goro to pass first. He notices she was often avoidant of eye contact after speaking, particularly as he thought over his reply. Had he not told her that he was doing well?

“As I said, I am doing quite well.” He placed his hands together after swiping his card through the gate, watching as the prosecutor repeated the action. 

It seemed the conversation had reached a lull. They hurry into the train car, grabbing onto the overhead bar. Niijima busied herself with her phone, and Goro was wishing he hadn’t sent Akira away. Only to have a second opinion on the current situation, of course. He reminds himself of how productive work was without the other boy. Maybe he was just as productive - eh. Highly doubtful, unfortunately. 

Evening - 4/9

“This is the stop, Akechi.” Niijima releases her hold and exits out of the car. Goro follows behind, finding her waiting for him at the top of the line stairs. Still not entirely sure of the whole ‘discussion over coffee’ narrative, he keeps a close eye on his surroundings, mapping out the quickest way back to the trains, to his apartment. Akira might already be at home. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Have you ever been? To Yongen-Jaya. I know it’s a little ways out of your realm, but it's awfully quaint. I find it worth the travel.” Her speech pattern suggests she’s only talking to fill the time, and he wonders exactly why she was so afraid of the silence. 

Goro takes off his gloves to rub his hands on his pants. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t had the time lately. The atmosphere is truly remarkable. I cannot remember the last time I’ve set foot in a city like this, in Tokyo.” He matches her words, still finding location-markers and memorizing street signs. An old man in an alleyway they pass. The sounds of the evening news from a balcony with a flickering bulb. 

The aroma of coffee hits him sharply. Goro has always had such a weakness for caffeine, growing stronger and stronger the more months he has had to room with a poltergeist that loves the sound of his own voice. There’s a sweet spice in the air as well, and they turn the corner into a wobbly back alley, one that ends in a residential area. 

“LeBlanc cafe. An old friend of mine, Sakura Sojiro, owns it. Come, I hope you’ll find it okay. It can get a little quiet, in the backstreets.” Niijima herself most likely isn’t even aware of how her words sound at the moment. She twists her fingers back and forth in her palm. 

LeBlanc? Goro lets her words sink in, instead of continuing to insult them. Ha, maybe the cat will recognize him. Holding the door open for Niijima, stepping inside, and letting his eyes adjust to the cafe lighting is all it takes to knock the wind out of him. Akira stands, on the bar with the cat hissing at him from the ground. The owner gives them an apologetic look.

“I apologize. He’s a stray.” The owner, Sakura, explains. If he’s a stray, Goro wonders, how did he get a collar for this exact location? He looks at Akira out of the corner of his eye. No telling how long he’s been jumping on that counter, out of reach from the cat’s claws. Although, technically, he could be standing right on the cat and… Why is Akira still here? There’s no question there; trusting Akira with a mission like this could only end exactly how it’s being shown before his eyes.

“Sakura-san found him on the streets a few days ago! He might pretend like he doesn’t care for him, but he got that collar specially made.” Akira shouts excitedly. Goro takes back what he was thinking earlier. Never will he miss that boy’s voice. 

He nods and mouths for him to sit with them at the booth nearest the door when he’s certain he’s out of Sakura and Niijima’s line of sight. Akira gestures at Morgana, wriggling around on the floor like he’s about to pounce, with a pointed expression. With his eyes open so wide, Goro could see his long eyelashes fluttering against his dark eyebrows. He… didn’t know why that mattered. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he slipped into the booth opposite Niijima, subtly tapping the seat besides him with his pointer finger. It would do him best if his second set of eyes was as close to the action as he himself was. Akira rolled his eyes, but looked excited nonetheless. He seemed not too concerned about the cat anymore, as he did a flip to the floor, and jumped onto the booth table. 

With the woman’s attention solely on him now, as Sakura had turned to make their coffee, he couldn’t exactly scold Akira at the moment. For now, he would have to settle for cursing him out silently. Besides, he still had the only ominous discussion with Niijima to deal with. He never did figure her out on the lengthy trip here. 

“The coffee is to die for Akechi, I swear to you,” Niijima starts up quickly. “This place is supposedly haunted, isn’t that right, Sojiro?” She looks away from Goro with a swift headturn, shifting her attention to the man holding their steaming coffee mugs. 

“Don’t tell me you still believe that shit, prosecutor. This young boy doesn’t need you filling his head with stories,” Sakura retorts, frowning. Goro mimics his expression. He can feel Akira’s curious gaze, but he refuses to look at him. Finally, he has a feeling he knows what this is about. 

“I don’t believe in that, sir. I do, however, believe in the power of good, strong coffee.” Goro takes a sip from the mug in front of him. Sakura huffs in amusement and turns to go back behind the bar. Niijima smiles shortly, and he can almost see her short fuse being lit. 

“Akechi, I’m going to cut to the chase now. I feel like you’d appreciate that,” she snaps. The tone of her voice is entirely contracting the gentle, slow movements of her fingers against the rim of her coffee, the soft blinking of her eyes, and the aggressively friendly smile she forces one as the words leave her lips. It leaves an awful air stagnant, almost visible. Goro gave her a smile in return.

“Of course, Niijima. What exactly is it on your mind?” She took this time to glare into her coffee in response, inhaling the steam.

“I want in on the mental shutdown case.” She resorts to tracing shapes into the side of her cup after an attempt to circle the rim resulted in her finger taking an unexpected lava bath. Goro can easily keep his laugh to himself; Akira, who unfortunately has the privilege of making any noise he wanted without anyone knowing did not have to stifle his amusement. Another benefit of being dead the detective can add to his list.

“I don’t believe that’s up to me, do you? I mean, I could always...” 

“No.. I mean, yeah. Of course I know you’re not the one to ask, but, Akechi.” They make brief eye contact before Niijima breaks it to mindlessly watch Sakura wiping down counters. “You seem to, uhm, reached a block in your investigating. I would only assist you, if you’d prefer.”

So that’s what all of this was about. Did Niijima really want to help? Goro, with his trained distrust of anyone breathing - including Akira, he supposes, although he needn’t breathe - was instantly suspicious of any ulterior motives. Did someone put her up to this? Shido? Was it related to… There’s no need to get so worked up. He would just play along for now.

“Why? Why do you want this case; why are you so eager?” If she wanted to pretend like she was interested, it would only be natural for Goro to question her act. A talk with Akira later, and maybe some training in the depths would clear his mind, to aid in bettering his understanding of Niijima’s game. 

“It’s a high-profile case, Akechi. Anyone in their right mind with the right capabilities would want to get to the bottom of it. People suddenly going insane, going on homicidal rages? It’s not natural and as a woman of the law, I want justice. Justice for our country.” Eye contact. Finally. Goro was wondering when she’d gain the nerve to address him. Her spiel about ‘law and order’ didn’t faze him. It was a practice, taught with immense importance within their career ladders. 

“I understand that well. That being said, it is a high-profile case, and I’m sure our uppers wouldn’t appreciate me simply, adding you on to such a private investigation like this. I am not against working with you, but surely you can see the opposition between your wishes, my abilities, and management’s control of the case.” He gave her an apologetic look. “However, I am willing to talk to the head if you’re sure of your decision to work this. No guarantees, though.”

Akira, still crouched on top of the table, sticks his toes into her drink. Goro can see the side of his big toe halfway out of the mug. It’s still blotchy, a dark purple. Presumably, he’ll always look like that. Bruised, head forever tilted at a slight angle. At least, for what the ghost does have going for him, was that all of the teeth he lost were molars. His smile was still intact. Good, as he was always smiling. He wonders for a moment if a lost front tooth would be any less endearing. He supposes it wouldn’t.

“If allowed, I will be fully dedicated to the investigation . It may not make sense to you, but with the recent events I… I need you to get me on this case, detective.”

Wanting to pinch himself for allowing such a distraction to overtake his thoughts, Goro bends his thumb back and adjusts his attention back to the issue. Niijima wants in on the case. His case. There’s no way she could suspect him as the cause behind the mental shutdowns with any evidence she could uncover on her own. So, is this really just innocent prosecutor curiosity? Has Shido gotten into contact with her, to keep Goro on track with a little bit of pressure? That certainly isn’t out of character for the man. Actions much worse have been taken to keep the detective in line. 

“Of course. I’ll try my best.” Goro took the last sip of his coffee while he stood from the bench. “It’s… refreshing, to see such passion from an adult.” He took a pause to put the mug in Sakura’s hands. “I hope you don’t take that the wrong way, Niijima, it’s just that many officials in this profession only care for progressing their own careers, instead of what they should be focusing on: progressing society.”

Briefly, Goro worried that it was the wrong sentiment at the wrong time, and when the woman didn’t respond after a few beats he looked back. The prosecutor was gazing thoughtfully into the wood. Suddenly he didn’t find himself afraid of his words anymore. He had said what she needed to hear. That was enough for him at the moment. Now, to get Akira back to the apartment to lecture him about his failed outing - while pretending like it wasn’t all his idea in the first place. 

Or, he ponders, a little Tokyo Underground run?

Evening - 4/9

They exit the cafe. A cool chill hit, less tainted with the scent of coffee. Akira floats behind Goro as he takes a shaky breath, adjusting his leather gloves. Some radio nearby was tuned in on a newscaster discussing the upcoming elections this year, yet that was months away. More than months away. He quickly grew bored and turned back to bother Goro.

“Hey, Goro. What was that lady even talking about?” He hadn’t been paying much attention, even though he knew his friend would be disappointed to not have someone ‘taking notes’ while he did all the important legwork.

“She wanted to join in on one of my cases. The mental shutdowns.” Even with the quiet of the small town, Goro remained whispering, as if afraid of disturbing the air. Akira always found he had to lean in close to hear him. Especially since Goro was always so paranoid about anyone hearing him talking to ‘nothing’. Sometimes, he thought it odd that the teen detective was the only other person who could see him. Maybe he has some sixth sense super powers to speak to the dead. But only the ‘Akira’ dead, he supposed. Unless he could see other ghosts, but kept it from him in fear of him getting jealous! Akira would have to ask him tonight.

“Oh.” He had forgotten he’d asked a question. Goro was still waiting for a response. He was lucky his friend was understanding of how much of a total airhead he was. Ha, get it? Anyways - “Uh. Why?”

“I’m not sure. That’s what I was hoping to uncover if she is to be given access to the investigation.” Goro chewed his thumb. He’d taken his gloves off again. Akira wished he had gloves like that. “...have to make sure I’m careful around her. Not like I’m not already; she’s quite the character. Although, she could become an extremely powerful confidant to keep around, if indeed this is no charade.”

Akira nodded mindlessly, kicking his feet through the air. Most nights after a troubling day at work for Goro or a difficult conversation, the pair would head out to train in the metaverse, knocking down target after target. He assumed that’s what tonight would lead to, but seeing the other so stuck in his own head made him anxious to act like himself again. They had only one more target for this week, and Akira knew he wasn’t the only one itching to complete the task set out for them by none other than Shido Masayoshi. The grudge his friend held against the man was bulky, rivaled only by Akira’s own hatred. I mean, how could he not hate him? Afterall, it was Shido’s dirty hands that pushed him into traffic that night. They were a little ways from LeBlancc now; when had they started walking? He hadn’t always been this scatterbrained, had he?

“How do you feel about a quick underground quest?” Goro muttered, seeming indifferent. Akira knew better; knew that he had been thinking about letting out some negative energy since the morning. He nodded excitedly, and Goro slips out his phone, and the distortions take over their surroundings. Shutting his eyes tightly, consciously reminding himself he didn’t need to hold his friend’s hand, as the scenery around them changes. 

Gone was the cobblestone path, brick building, and calm, cooling air. The air in the underground stung. Like little wasps whipped into your face with each pass of a train. Purple and red vines overtook much of the surface this far into the depths, slowly creeping onto the tracks, to their feet. 

Akira loved the metaverse. He could touch things again, for god’s sake! He could fight, using his pent-up energy for something good. He could have Goro’s back. Even with the obvious danger of the area, he never feels as free; unchained. They high-five in the metaverse, hug after an exceptionally difficult win, bandage each other up. Sometimes, his only wish is to be able to do that in the real world. Being dead was tough, occasionally. Usually, he didn’t mind it. 

A squeal sounded from behind the pair, causing them to jump. Goro immediately whips out his weapon, while Akira keeps his hand on his dagger, looking for the danger. 

There was a cat. Like a bobblehead, the cat’s body from the neck up was enlarged, comically huge compared to the rest of it. Black fur, and some sort of pirate or bandit costume. Was it a metaverse user too? Was that possible?

“I followed you two due to some suspicions I was having. Turns out I wasn’t just being paranoid!” The… cat exclaims. “What are you doing here? There’s no way the both of you have any clue how all of this works! You’re going to mess something up!” Goro rolls his eyes, still with his sword piercing the space in front of the cat’s face. 

“Who are you? How do we know you’re not here to screw shit up? I bet you don’t even know how to fight shadows!” Akira shouted. He’s taking his hand off his dagger by this point, circling his arms wildly. “We’re professionals, if you must know. Experts in our field. And for you following us - isn’t that a little...weird? Creepy, even? Why would you admit to someone that you’re stalking them?” He looks back and forth from Goro to the stranger. 

“You? Professionals? Please! Have you seen the news? Someone’s messes are shown on every channel, and I have a feeling that someone is you boys. Explain yourselves!” It took on a fighting stance, akin to Goro’s.

“Who. Are. You. Answer me first,” Goro seethed. Along with Akira’s changed attitude in the metaverse, the detective grew incredibly aggressive. Their opposing reactions to the danger were intriguing. For all their similarities, they were still two vastly different people. And that’s excluding the obvious ‘one of them’s dead.’

“Morgana. We can focus on introductions later. For now, you have to leave so I can attempt to set things right.” The cat, Morgana, glared- Morgana?

“Hold up… Morgana? From LeBlancc? Like, the actual-normal-non talking cat?” Akira’s jaw fell. You would think being brought back from the dead would mean nothing could shock him into a stupor anymore, yet it happened more commonly than you would think. Goro often resorted to slapping him sharply against his face, but Akira knew now wasn’t the time to show their team weaknesses. He’s stuck now trying to put his mouth back together. 

“Didn’t you just hear me say we should save that for later? You’re not the only one with questions that need answers here.” Morgana hop-walked a few feet back to the entrance. So much for getting some work done tonight. “Follow me.”

Daytime - 4/10

The previous night’s impromptu conversation went about as smoothly as you would expect. A short-tempered detective, his adhd ghost friend, and an increasingly bossy cat all having a casual talk after lunging at each other’s throats not even an hour prior. Especially considering the boys hadn’t been allowed to expel their teenage angst into the metaverse, as per Morgana’s demand. 

Even with the cat’s concerns and warning, he didn’t care anymore about the ‘unintended consequences’ of killing the targets in the metaverse. If their method of getting rid of obstacles was working as it should, why should they care for doing exactly what he’s been ordered to do? Shido for sure didn’t care about the real life body count, as long as Goro hit them as hard as he could. Besides, they hadn’t thought there were any other options for disarming distorted desires. 

Akira had agreed to learning a less violent, merciful method.

Goro hated him for it. 

Underground Tokyo was their area, their territory to complete his father’s requests. It’s where Goro brought Akira back to ‘life’ so to speak, and where they became stronger together. Having some random side character come and lecture them about it was entirely not the move, and it took all of his strength not to punt the rodent out of his apartment as soon as they started speaking. However, with how Akira was interacting with Morgana, Goro wasn’t sure if anyone else would appreciate his wills. 

“Do you think maybe… we have been doing the wrong thing?” The ghost whispered, twisting his fingers together. Goro slides a hand over his face, pinching his nose. Before answering any questions about the deep, underlying philosophy of his actions, he intended on sitting down and asking himself the same first. 

“So, what? You’re fine with killing people until some righteous asshole calls you out on it?” Goro hands tightened, fists shaking. 

“N-no, that’s not it, Goro! It’s just… I mean we should at least think it over. If what Morgana’s saying about metaverse affecting the real world like that is really true, then…” Akira doesn’t finish his sentence. He can see the ghost’s transparent hands running through dark hair.

“Think it over? Akira, a little self reflection therapy session isn’t going to change the fact that this is our only choice. My only choice. You’re only dragged along because you’re supposed to be dead; somehow you’re not. Don’t start getting compunctious on me here. Dead people don’t have obligations, or any cause to feel bad, so don’t.” Goro was not emotional by nature, but he did have mommy issues. Being manipulative was in his nature. 

“Goro…” The dark-haired boy’s face contorted sadly. Being his father’s illegitimate son and his unpaid hitman while knowing he was a nail soon to be hammered down did awful things to his level of empathy. 

He sighed, sliding down onto the couch, his hands tucked together in his lap. In his peripheral, a door creaks quietly. The front door. Even as a ghost, Akira’s presence does not go fully ignored by the material world. Certainly not in Goro’s, except when he’s trying to prove that he can in fact be strong with exactly no allies by his side. 

\-----

Night 4/10

During his usual nightly strolls, Akira mostly occupied himself by humming, laughing at pedestrians, or listening in on random arguments. Tonight, however, he’s mostly mumbling to himself, complaining about how uptight Goro could be. Sooner or later the stick up his ass had to fall out, right? If it really was true that he and the detective’s lives were connected, Akira hoped he didn’t have to wait forever for the guy to loosen up. Nevertheless, being dead gave him patience he couldn’t dream of in his short life. Maybe that makes him sound even more impatient. 

Shibuya was loud, even during the night. Not so much as Shinjuku or Kabukicho, but much more so than Yongen-Jaya. Its thousands of bars and clubs were filled with youthful and lively crowds any night of the week; of course, since Goro had no business attending any of these venues, Akira has never been - not only that, but they’re both underaged. It’d be hard to explain getting caught in one of those… no trouble for a ghost. Sometimes, being dead had its perks.

\----

Late Night 4/10

When the other boy hadn’t returned in two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds, the detective then started to truly worry. Akira’s usual route took a whole minute less than that. Was he really that upset? No one could blame him, Goro supposed; bringing up the fact that someone was dead to excuse their guilts about committing murder could cause that someone to become a bit emotional, in due logic. How could that be fixed, he wondered? Just a simple apology couldn't possibly do...no. Revoking his earlier argument would only hurt his integrity later on, but would that satisfy Akira?

...Possibly. Goro thinks, inwardly, that anyone simply willing to continuously agree with the ghost on any topic, any terms, would satisfy him for the rest of his days, if they are indeed limited. As they should be. When he’s being honest with himself -well, he can be honest with himself right now, that is not a common occurrence - but when he is, that is, honest with himself, he can admit that he regrets ever picking up Shido’s call that night. Although, when he thinks of what might’ve happened if he had ignored it… his whole plan, down the drain, if Shido had been caught on some dark country street with a dead teenager laying in the road. There has to be some limit in the actions these people are being paid off to ignore, right? Most people, that are right in the head, couldn’t possibly ignore murder like this, while gaining from it! 

Right- he’s still pretending to be honest with himself. He has a leg up in law, in the politics and inner workings of the justice system. He has seen for himself how corrupt a person can become when given even the smallest bit of power. Never has he been so glad to be immune to that rush. Yes, Akechi Goro, in his unaltered, completely sane mind, isn’t affected by the stench of pure power. He laughs to think of himself so weak.

It’s been much too long for Akira to still be on his normal walk. He supposes it was kind of silly to assume he’d be going on just an average stroll after getting chewed out like that. 

He heads to his room after turning the main room lights off. This is the perfect time for Akira to better evaluate his limitations in the living world. 

\-----

Early Morning 4/11

Akira slips through the metaverse club’s wall, head pounding. The lights, the music, the booze; maybe he should’ve paid attention to all those papers and activities they made him do in primary school for D.A.R.E. Maybe then he wouldn’t be in this situation. In his addled mind, he thinks snorting a few lines of whatever specialty drug the shadows were serving tonight would be great for his spirit restriction thesis. Afterall, the fact that the shadows stopped trying to attack him after he downed a great big glass of something sparkling and spicy made for a great introductory paragraph.

Now to get home. To Goro. That’d be something, explaining to the detective exactly what he had been out all night accomplishing. Akira may be a ghost, but he was still underaged, Goro would ‘suppose’. God, it was almost as if he could hear him now.

Not unlike Shibuya at night, the city during the day was filled with never ending traffic, bustling groups of teens and young adults, and the evanescent (or was the term effervescent?) glow of a metaverse opening here and there. Without the aid of the ever-so handy dandy meta-nav app, he had to enter some other way. Lucky for him, he had died halfway between reality, and the metaverse, so the world he walked in was somewhere in between them. Akira couldn’t be seen by anyone besides meta-users, it seemed, and the constantly present shadows walking between worlds alongside him. His personas too, of course, could interact with him, and could hear his commands in a fight. Even now he itches to rip off his mask, and a few shadow’s masks as well and get a little scratched up. However, none of the shadows attacked unless provoked, and with Morgana’s wise words, he couldn’t bring himself to enter a fight so carelessly without any consideration for his opponent anymore.

If their main mission targets were killed in reality when Akira and Goro attacked in the metaverse, what did that say about the regular shadows that wandered aimlessly? Did they have any ties to real people? Maybe those real people died; maybe they didn’t but were tremendously injured with no real reason in their mind as to why. It was a definite possibility. With all these questions that Morgana’s scolding brought, he could see more and more of Goro’s reasoning come to a more positive light. His reasoning of ‘I have a job to do, so I’ll continue pretending the consequences don’t exist.’  
But Akira can’t accept that, not truly. There has to be something better. It may not be the easiest option, but… He’ll talk to Morgana later; the next time he sees the cat he’ll bombard him with questions. For now, he guesses his main objective is to get back to Goro’s apartment, and talk about last night. As soon as he messes with Kamoshida.

Kamoshida coaches volleyball at Shujin Academy in Aoyama-Itchome. He’s a classic asshole character. Constantly belittling his own students, forcing himself and his expectations onto them, and overall being a shitty person. Akira had assumed he couldn’t do anything about it. No way Mr. Shido would give Goro such a low-level assignment, and he never dreamed of defeating a distortion without his partner. But, maybe, possibly, within the slightest chance, Akira could turn Kamoshida into a good person, without murder, with Morgana’s help, and show them both that they were other ways. More environmentally friendly ways, if you will.

“Screw that pervy teacher! God, Kamoshida you’re not the shitty king of Shujin! It’s not your goddamn castle, asshole.” A rowdy blond jumps in front of Akira on the sidewalk. With a start, he notices something a bit off about this teen. Inside of simply glowing a soft white, for undistorted souls, or red, for heavily distorted souls, he shined a vibrant blue hue that burned the ghost’s eyes. He’s seen the colour before, but only around Goro. What did they have in common?

He would probably never know; he wasn’t much for unsolvable puzzles such as these. But what he did know about similarities, is that him and this boy both despised the same god-awful abuser! What a small world. Chuckling to himself, he goes to step through the blond, only to be stopped by- What? 

Usually, Akira has no problems phasing through solid steel, crowds of people, and even his own body if he tries hard enough. Something about this boy was freaking him out, generating a type of confusion and discomfort he hadn’t felt since his death. Did he want to figure it out? Of course. What other options did he have?

“Loud Mouth! Can You Hear Me?!?” Maybe he had been watching too many sci-fi movies; his favourites were the ones where aliens are sent to earth to warn the humans about a coming invasion, but they’re all too shocked to find out there are aliens, and focus more on communicating their values of superiority. He especially likes the movies where they all die in the end. It makes him feel less lonely sometimes.

The blond whipped his head around, eyes wide, searching the alley behind him. So he could hear his voice, but he couldn’t see him. Interesting. 

Akira attempts again to go through him, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. It lays flat on his unbuttoned blazer. He quickly lifts his hand up. Did the stranger feel that? Should he try something bolder? Before he could pull the bleached hair as hard as he could, the distortion from the access point nearby expanded, and their surroundings changed. They were in the metaverse. Was it because Akira had touched him? 

Spinning a whole 360 degrees, he checks for any other access points, one small enough to miss, and close enough to maybe accidentally enter, but he doesn’t find anything of the sort. Instead, when he faces back to the original direction, the blond is staring at him in shock, mouth gaping.

“You! I-” His finger shoots up; Akira pushes it out of his face. “I can see right through you!”

He laughs, struggling to hide his own shock. This stranger can see ghosts? Or maybe it’s because they’ve entered a nearby distortion? Either way, Goro is going to flip! “That’s not very nice to say to someone you just met, you know.” 

The blond chokes on his own tongue, before closely his eyes tightly, and crossing his arms in front of him. He counts to ten before opening them again. Was he waiting for Akira to disappear? That’s a laugh.

“W-What do you want? No, this can’t be real; don’t treat him like he’s real, Ryuji!” The boy, Ryuji, it seems, stops yelling to look back to Akira. “Shit! What if he’s like a Shinigami or something? I just gave him my name! Oh… wait…”

He waits for Ryuji to go over the Death Note lore in his head while he looks for the distortion ’s entrance. It’s possible that the glowing blue from certain people is only a marker that they can enter the metaverse, and therefore have the capability of obtaining personas. So, to Akira, running into this clueless stranger was perfect! It meant he could defeat Kamoshida and his distortion without Goro’s help, and also without dying! All he really had to do now was calm Ryuji down and convince him to join the fight. He already held the necessary passion towards the enemy, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard for the ghost on this front.

“Hi. I’m dead.” Great start! The boy has stopped muttering to himself. “My name’s Kurusu Akira, and you’re in the metaverse. Specifically, I’m pretty sure we’re at the entrance to Kamoshida’s distortion, although I’m not quite sure how we got here, but-”

“K-Kamoshida? Distortion? I- uh.” Ryuji shifts his weight onto one leg. It doesn’t seem like he can maintain eye contact with Akira. Is it cause he’s dead? 

“Yes! Would you like to come find it with me? I think I know where it is, but I can’t do what I gotta do inside it without a little bit of help, and you're as good as the next living stranger, so would you?” Akira notes that he should listen in on Goro’s conversations like the one he had with Sae Niijima more often, because with the experience he gained from that one, this one is going superb.

At least, he assumes it is, until Ryuji collapses into the pink ripples on the ground.


	2. kamoshida palace ig

Morning - 4/11

Akira’s not quite sure how long he waited for the other boy to awake, but it was long enough for shadows to be alerted to their presence. They must not have been as far away from the distortion as he had thought; shadows normally stayed as close to the centre of a palace as they could. Now he had to figure out how to lug a teenage boy out of a potential battle. 

It’s going great so far, with Ryuji slung over his shoulder, feet hitting the back of Akira’s thighs as he runs. Oh, to be blissfully unaware. There’s a split in the sidewalk now, and lining the walls of the alley were big apartment dumpsters. His first instinct is to hide inside them, because surely the shadows wouldn’t think to follow him in there. The lids don’t open; apparently cognitive Kamoshida is an optimistic environmentalist deep down in his heart, where there is no waste in the world, so bins aren’t designed to be opened. Hiding in between them will have to do. He can’t see the shadows anymore, but he can hear their grunts and heavy footfalls as they chased after them. 

In Akira and Goro’s experiences, most shadows were brutishly moronic. Follow any sign of life to the ends of the earth kind of moronic. The kind of stupid brutes that cast rage upon their allies willingly, as an attempt to get the upper edge in battle. Which, to be fair, usually worked for a solid turn until Akira whipped out a persona, one hand-picked to extort the enemies weakness, and took a pair or two down with one blow. He only wishes there were some way to ascertain their true-selves identities before entering a battle. On countless occasions, they had been forced to fight a Makami with a low-levelled Koppa Tengu, all because Akira had parted with a loyal Pixie. Truly stupid, entirely on his part, if he were to listen to Goro. 

Ryuji popped his head up from where it was propped against the brick. His mouth stuttered open, his eyes went wide; Akira wondered if it was too late to swing the side of his hand into the blond’s neck, take him out. He’d probably remember that when he woke back up, though. 

“Where are we?” Ryuji looks more… angry than confused now. His short eyebrows scrunch up in a similar fashion to an upset chihuahua. Does he think this is Akira’s fault? On second thought, it most certainly was his fault.

“Kamoshida’s heart, remember? I don’t know how we got here, because I don’t remember trying to enter, but if I wasn’t trying to enter, maybe you were.” He ponders for a moment, taking in Ryuji’s changing expression, and decides to continue. “I think you brought us here. You did say the keywords,” Possibly. It was possible he said the keywords. “Which would lead to us being here.”

He shoves his callused hands into his scruffy hair. “For real?!?” Akira wants to tell him to shut up. “How-I- His heart? You know, I’m not even going to ask. Just get us out of here!”

Akira shrugs. Definitely too late to knock him out. The small part of his brain earlier that suggested Ryuji was only pretending to be oblivious, was actually an alien spy sent down from his home planet to conduct the (well-overdue) mass extinction, starting with this already-dead guy, that part of his brain decided it was completely wrong. The blond really was just a normal student, and Akira really was just a boy with an overactive imagination. That makes this remarkably easier.

“We have to find the access point we came in through, then.” His eyes light up. “Or, maybe, you’d rather stay and fight some bad guys? You seem like you’d be into that.” There’s a loud bang nearby, which they both jump at, but Akira can’t sense any shadows close, so he shakes it off.

Ryuji takes one long, searching look through his eyes and sighs. “Why not, man? Let’s kick some ass, I’m already late anyways.” He stretched his shoulder behind his neck, wincing as it popped. Akira takes a catalogue of the area; was there a weapon the blond could use? He might not have his persona yet, if he’s this surprised about entering a palace, it was highly likely he’d never heard of the metaverse before. But then why does he glow blue? What was the significance, the similarity between him and Goro? Goro would be able to get it out of him. Akira sighs; he really shouldn’t have gone off alone. 

He signals for Ryuji to follow him out of the alley. By the sound of it, the shadows had long since turned back towards the center of the palace. Should he sneak up on one, to teach the blond the basics of fighting, hands-on? Goro would slap him just for suggesting that. He would tell him to stop being so reckless, and would drag them back to the entrance. The entrance! Following the way they came should be simple enough, even if it meant Akira wouldn’t get to fight - for the second day in a row, he was cockblocked from danger by some random stranger and Goro’s logic. 

Noon - 4/11

Goro could be patient. Yes, people often commented on what a patient man he was. They would say, “Akechi Goro, what a patient man!” and Goro would wait, to see if they had anything else to add, because he was so patient. Especially right now. He was applying his great skill of patience right now as he waited, very patiently, on his couch for Akira to phase through his door. He sat with much patience on the couch, which was gifted to him by a neighbour when she discovered he, a minor, was living alone in an apartment with close to no furniture. She was a short, older woman, with dozens of grandchildren. He suspected she heard him talking to Akira a few times in the past, but she had never brought him up. However, she made sure he understood the importance of having close friends at his age, whatever that meant.

She was patient with him, not forcing him to open up to her like most of the other neighbours did; though, not as patient as he. Speaking of, he wonders if maybe waiting around patiently was actually rather impatient. If he truly were to perform at his max ‘patiency,’ then perhaps that would mean working through his roommate's absence, or maybe - going to find him. 

The answer was obvious all along! If he went to go find Akira, that would show not only peak patience but also that he has forgotten of the recent argument. Easy enough; find the ghost, tell him they should reconcile, then complete Shido’s assignment. They really should’ve finished that yesterday, though… Shido hadn’t called yet, so it was possible that it hadn’t affected the plan greatly. He would be extremely upset, however, if the wait was prolonged. (Unlike Goro, Shido was rather impatient, and highly unaware, self-wise) It would be of benefit to everyone for him to find his partner as soon as possible, find the target, and complete the mission. Then all there was to do was to wait for the next one, patiently. And to find that stupid cat. 

Noon - 4/11

The walk back to the proposed access point didn’t take very much time. Looking for it took way longer. There had to be one, right? Akira shook his head. Goro could enter without one, couldn’t he? But how? Ah! He looks over at the bleached head, examining a crack in the road with exquisite focus. 

“Ryuji! Can I see your phone?” He held his hand out, grabbing at the air with his fingers. The other blinks slowly, covering his pocket almost defensively; he squints at Akira’s outreached palm.

“...Why?”

“Just have to check for something.” Ryuji takes a step back; he pulls the phone out of his pocket and holds it tightly against his chest. 

“Just tell me what you’re looking for and I can tell you if I have it!” his voice cracks. 

“It’d be easier if you just let me look; I won’t touch your search history, I promise!” Ryuji makes a choking sound, tossing the phone across to Akira, who smirks.

It was unlocked already, the background being a selfie of Ryuji and, assumingly, his mother. She’s an older woman, with grey-tinged hair. The light in her eyes shines as she looks not at that camera, but at Ryuji, who’s put up a peace sign behind her head. She doesn’t seem to mind. Apparently, Akira’s been staring at the picture a little too long, because the subject of the image beside him clears his throat, nudging him lightly. Right. What exactly was he looking for?

He’d never seen Goro’s phone, nor had he ever heard the other boy talking about the app that allows the detective into the metaverse. The most he had heard was of a mysterious app downloaded onto his phone without him knowing years ago, when he was only fourteen or fifteen. Akira hadn’t known him then, hadn’t known the struggles the young boy was going through, and the extent of evilness adults possessed. All he had known those years ago was some neglect, and the absence of his parents' love. He’d been alive then, though, but still ignored. 

He starts by looking for any weird distortions to the screen. Perhaps the access point wasn’t merely an app, but a point of contact on the surface of the phone itself. Pride swarms his heart as he surprises himself with that idea. At this time, it didn’t even matter to him if he was wrong; he was just so sure Goro would never be able to think of something so out of the box like that! His fingertips press all over the cracked screen, on the sides of the phone, on the back. It had to be an area that Ryuji could touch accidentally while saying the keywords, so he doesn’t ask to take apart the phone, though he thinks they shouldn’t be leaving any part of the device unchecked.

That thesis isn’t entirely out of the question, still, but Akira can see the teen getting antsy with his phone in a stranger's hand. He wouldn’t say they were strangers anymore, but he knows most people would. After a battle or two, Ryuji would for sure warm up to him. 

“Have you seen any weird app on your phone? One that you didn’t download, maybe?” Akira doesn’t really know where to go from this. If he says yes, what does it mean? If he says no, what’s their next move? God, man, just answer the question already!

“Not that I’ve seen? But- Oh, wait! While I was watching Kamoshida drivin’ away, my phone started making this weird buzzing sound, but I didn’t have time to check it before we ended up here.” Before he can move out of the way, Ryuji swipes the phone back. He’s scrolling through his pages and pages of applications, before ending up on the last page. It’s being pushed back into Akira’s hands, and he stops trying to look over the blond’s shoulder. 

On the screen, there’s a red and black emblem, sort of resembling an eye. Judging from the gasps they both made, neither of the boys had seen any symbol like it. Should he press it? What would pressing it do?

A calloused finger reaches over to tap the icon; it expands across the screen as Akira uses all his strength not to drop it and back away, like it’s a bomb. For all they know, it could be! The app could totally turn Ryuji’s phone into a bomb, and blow everyone up. They could’ve just ended the world for all they knew. Goro would’ve punted them both into the ends of the earth if he had been here right now. But he wasn’t, so the next best thing was to let the phone blow up.

Except it didn’t! The app opened up to a screen displaying a map navigation system, with simple buttons such as “return to the real world,” and “Kamoshida Suguru’s Palace.” Return to the real world would most likely do exactly as it said, maybe, and that was the goal. But he was curious about the other button. If they were already in the palace, what use did this serve? Akira tentatively taps the screen, and another series of buttons pop up. Each of the new ones, however, have a lock over the location name. They couldn’t go there yet, he supposed. He had heard Goro muttering something about choosing a starting area in the Underground before. Mementos, Morgana had called it. Again, he never had the chance to take a peek at his partner’s phone.

One button on the page was lit up, and didn’t have a lock. Without a second thought or a glance towards the one reluctantly following him, Akira clicked the location titled “Kamoshida Palace Entrance.”

Afternoon- 4/11

Following what he knows to be Akira’s usual route did Goro no good. All he managed to find was the dumb cat, still trailing him. Morgana, he reminds himself, held himself with such undeserved confidence and pride it was hard enough to keep a conversation with him, much less stop from swinging a baseball bat at the furball and watching him fly away. He clenches and unclenches his fists to keep in check.

“Have you decided?” A shrill voice from below him asks. Goro knows better, knows his own self-control limits, and doesn’t look down when he replies.

“Decided on what, exactly?” He only says it when he’s sure the street is clear of any passerby. As it was the middle of a weekday in a school area, only lone cars passed, along with the occasional officer rounding the corner on patrol. He already has to worry about talking to a ghost in public, and now he’s got a magic housepet attached to his side like a leech. 

“Murder, of course. Have you decided that it’s bad yet?” Morgana chirps cheekily. “Cause it is. Murder is very bad, Akechi, and I hope you realise it soon. I’m sure Akira already has, seeing as he’s in the metaverse and decisively not killing every shadow in sight.” He says it casually, as if they both know this, as if they’re drinking coffee with breakfast and talking about their lives.

“Akira’s what now? Where?” His surprise is evident in his voice as he fails to mask it in time. It’s not unlike Akira to chase danger like this, but the detective would’ve thought him at least conscious enough to hold off for at least a few hours. 

“You can’t sense him? He’s in a palace somewhere close, I thought that was where you were headed.” It seems the cat deems Goro still looks confused. “For how I know that he’s not killing, I can still sense the shadows' presence after getting into a fight with them. About that! Why didn’t you guys tell me you had another partner? I can sense them, you know!”

He’s nearly sent face-first to the ground. There is not another partner. Has Akira been fighting with this person, or was Goro just that easy to replace? Too many stupid questions to ask a dead man to answer. Morgana doesn’t seem to know anything more, or he’s just good at hiding it, so he decides to continue looking for Akira. That was the plan when he left his apartment this morning, and it hadn’t changed when the cat started tailing him.

“Do you know exactly where he is? Can we go there now; I’d rather not waste any more time.” Fixing his gloves as a nervous habit he would never admit to having, while Morgana puffed his cheeks out in defiant retaliation. God, what was it now? There was always something for the creature to complain about, which was ironic because there was certainly no limit to real issues ( caused by him ) to whine about. 

“Well, I suppose I could, but… How do I know this isn’t a trap?” Akechi’s jaw threatens to drop open. “It’s no secret you don’t like me very much, obviously. As for Akira, I’m not quite sure; certainly, he’d do almost anything for you. And since you dislike me so much, it’s not out of the question for you two to devise a plan to lure me into a palace unprepared, as to finish me off.”

There was a level besides naive and cautious it seemed, and it was called idiocy. When would they have had any time to plan something even mildly as elaborate? It seemed like a lot of trouble to go through, just to get rid of some annoying pet. There was no way Morgana was considering that possibility seriously! Surely, if with his cognition of the two being murderers, his imagination wouldn’t have immediately gone with that occurring. Could magic cats read? If they could, this one’s been reading way too many internet conspiracies. 

“I- Are you kidding? We-” A taxi stops at the curb beside them to let out a man in a crisp tan suit. Goro takes this time to breathe. He also makes it a point to lower his voice. “We never had time to plan such a thing. Akira left last night after you questioned our morals; he’s… more sensitive than most.”

Morgana slaps a paw to his shoe. “Obviously I’m not going to blindly believe you! And, for one, I think being upset about realising you’ve killed people is extremely reasonable!”

Goro doesn’t respond. As long as Morgana takes him to the palace, he could care less what they thought of each other. The more he thought about it, though, the more he wished they had planned an ambush like that. Without another metaverse user, they didn’t have to worry about any chance of being sold out, or having to share earnings as blackmail. But, with that other thing the cat said… That there was another person with Akira in the metaverse, what did that mean for them? Assuming his partner is working with this someone out of free will, would they expect Goro to work with them too? Akira had a hard enough time convincing him not to kill him for finding out about the metaverse, so for him to think a third ‘teammate’ would be okay to spring on him was purely idiotic.

Afternoon - 4/11

The area had morphed yet again, as they entered the palace’s centre: a huge castle, roaming with guards. Ryuji didn’t think they should go in. Akira was only curious as to how to go about this, without killing anyone. Could that even be done? He grimaces at the thought that his go to problem solver was murder, and that without that he wasn’t sure if his quest was beatable. Well, at least he feels bad about it, right? That’s all that really matters.

“No way. Nuh uh, man, I ain’t going in there!” Ryuji stomps his foot dramatically. “Sure, this looks like where the school is, but this is not the school! Who knows what kinda hairy monsters are in there? And maybe you’re just tryna’ feed me to them,” his voice wavers.

“Stay out here if you want, but it’s safer if we stick together. I think fighting together would be super cool.” Akira acts out slashing a sword through the air in front of the blond’s face. “Seeing your personas in action for the first time would be awesome! I wonder if you have any we don’t.” He turns away as he says the last part, wondering if it’d be a good idea to tell Ryuji about his grumpy detective partner.

“Hey, wait, what the hell are you talking about?” He shouted at Akira, but the ghost had already walked off into the castle.

The doors had been open already, to a grand hall with big stairs on both sides of the room, and a statue of a familiar face in the middle. Shadows in heavy, full body armour surround the statue, discussing the location of some intruders, from the sound of it. Akira rushes to hide behind a pillar, out of view from the group, Ryuji following suit. They both held their breaths in waiting as the conversation came to a close, and the guards went off in different directions. None were left in the hall.

“What the hell were those?” Ryuji ass, voice threateningly loud. “Were those… shadows?” Luckily, it had seemed any that were in the area hadn’t heard it, or else they wouldn’t come running back. 

“Yeah, those were shadows, although I’ve never seen ones that take a form like that. I think it normally just matches the distortion.” Akira shrugs, rolling his shoulder. It wasn’t too hot inside the castle, but with his hair falling thickly onto his neck, the temperature easily felt much higher than it honestly was.

“And...you want to fight one of- Behind you!” Ryuji jumped out of Akira’s sight, and he turned to see the blond being struck by a shadow. Its weapon hit his shoulder with a thud, sending him to the floor. Rushing to the shadow to tear off his mask, while the other struggled to stand up. If they entered battle right now, Ryuji was going to be targeted immediately because of his vulnerability. Akira could only hope he has the strength right now to use his personas. This enemy wasn’t strong by any means, but it would possibly take two to take it down.

“Show me your true form!” He exclaimed as he ripped the shadows metal helmet off his head. It screamed as a black mist steamed from its core, commencing battle. 

The blond had gotten up at this point, shakily holding onto his shoulder. Nothing looked bleeding or broken, but Akira would agree that it seemed to hurt like hell. Although he appeared in a condition to fight, he didn’t want to make him unless he was ready, of course. There had been numerous times where Goro would force them both down another flight of stairs to yet another area after they had completed what they came to do, when they were already low on spirit points and health supplies. Often, it ended in one of the pair collapsing in the middle of a fight, and the other having to spend time looking for a way to escape. They wouldn’t go underground for a while afterwards, rarely speaking to each other for hours, until Shido called with another hit, another person to kill, and they went back and repeated the cycle.

He works mostly on auto-piloted instincts, at this point. Where each hit the enemy makes is just another one to dodge, and each attack he lands plays out like a video game. Once he finds this shadows weakness, this mandrake’s soft spot, it’d take one well timed punch and bullet to the jaw to solidify a win. Mandrake:0; Akira:1

There was a loud clambering off to his side, and he looked away for just a second, allowing the shadow to jump towards the pair, striking Ryuji with a sound Skull Cracker. He managed to stay on his feet this time, though, only swaying into Akira’s side. It all offsets his plan of success just a tad; no matter, he’s more worried about that fact that he let the other boy get hit. His health had already been low, and the heavy hits he’d been taking, although few, were draining him fast. At this point, even if he didn’t have the energy, calling a persona would be a better option than trying to defend. Was he worried about showing his abilities to a stranger? Surely it had been long enough for him to notice Akira was in the same position, showing his power in front of some random. 

Or, there was always the offset chance that the glowing blue that surrounded the boy did not mean he could wield personas. Then what did it mean? There wasn’t any way to tell exactly what Goro and Ryuji had in common, without the detective being here to tell him the obvious answer. The little bit of Goro implanted inside of him would like to believe the blue is unimportant. Perhaps it is just an indicator that the person is bound to enter the metaverse soon, or that they’re connected to a nearby palace in some way. That would make sense: as Ryuji was glowing blue, as he shouted Kamoshida’s keywords. Maybe Goro’s the same, or maybe it’s because he kills in the metaverse. Maybe that theory doesn’t make that much sense, but it’s a start, he supposes.

He rips out a different persona, this time Angel, and crosses his fingers that the Hama he casts lands. It’s no cause for celebration when it does, however. Grabbing Ryuji by the arm, slinging him over his shoulder, and successfully crawling down a side hall where he can feel a safe room is much more rewarding than beating that shadow. Shadows don’t really exist outside of a cognition, correct? Goro would think so, which would mean that defeating them in a battle here doesn’t amount to any death in reality. That makes Akira feel better enough about the insta-death spells he’s been using a lot of lately to let out a smile as he sits on a couch with the blond. 

“I don’t care if this is real or not anymore,” Ryuji states suddenly, confident. “I mean, there’s no way its real life, but I know for a fact Kamoshida is going to get what’s coming for him, castle or no.” The pure determination set into his expression almost has Akira flinching off the couch. It’s funny to think of his reaction if such passion had been directed towards him.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I’ve been watching your school for a while now, you know; there really isn’t much else to do, but seeing how that couch has been treating his students when he thinks no one is watching… It’s disgusting.” His gaze meets the other, nodding his head. “We need to stop him.”

“Do you… I mean, are we the only ones who can?” He bounces his knee. “Don’t get me wrong! It feels like my life duty to have that bastard kneel before me, and seeing how powerful you are really helped me realise that it was even possible. I just wanna know what I’m getting into beforehand, ya know? It’s something we’ve been readin’ about in class.” A more professional and dignified tone slips over his words. “Knowing the task ahead and understanding your limits! It’s interesting stuff dude, if you skip the reading and just watch the videos of people who paid attention and know what the hell they’re talking about!”

They share a laugh at that, settling more comfortably onto the couch. Despite the dangerous atmosphere outside of this room, it seemed teen boys could still make friends on the spot. Akira’s watched it happen countless times over the hours spent keeping up with people his age. Goro, on the other hand, was very much the opposite of a regular teenage boy. He’d never talked to anyone more than a colleague at the end of the day out of his own accord, and he’s never seen another person in their apartment since moving in. The detective was the loneliest person in the whole world, probably, and that was coming from a dead dude. 

Ryuji was much more open, friendly. Even to Akira, who he hadn’t had more than a quiet second with until right this moment, he was the physical human embodiment of a golden retriever from everything to his anomalously large brown eyes, to the way he shoved himself in front of a blow he easily could’ve been out of the way for. That had surprised Akira more than most of the things today. He could count on one hand the number of times Goro had taken a hit for him, but he’d never found that unusual. Why get hurt for someone who could take it themselves? His health hadn’t been low in the slightest, and whatever attack the shadow would’ve made wouldn’t have affected his ability to fight. Ryuji had already been hit hard right before that, hadn’t been able to even stand for a while afterwards. There was close to no tactical sense in protecting Akira. 

“Hey, I-” The safe room door is being shut closed, metres away from the two. Jumping from the couch, they’re now face to face with the intruder. Akira feels his body relax.

“Goro! You scared us; you didn’t tell me you were coming,” he jokes, tapping his partner’s shoulder, who’s staring intently at the other boy in the room. Ryuji shifts his weight.

“Ah, this is Sakamoto Ryuji, and this is Akechi Goro.” The introduction doesn’t even make a dent on the sizable tension in the room. He can almost see it; what he can see is the glowing blue from the two others, matching. “Ryuji, Goro and I work together! Partners, teammates, one could say. I think that fits better than colleagues, or peers, wouldn’t you say?” He can already feel Goro rolling his eyes.

“I am going to kill you, Akira, I swear.” It’s a murderous snarl, and the ghost wants to shrink back immediately. He’s suddenly nervous about his permeability in this moment. The blond picks at his nails while stealing glances towards the pair. His teeth whittle into his bottom lip, and ever so often his mouth falls open only for his teeth to clang together again. 

“No, wait, please, not yet!” He looks Goro in the eyes. “I have an idea! Taking Kamoshida down, without killing him; It’ll work I promise. You don’t have to work with me, us, but I’ll show you that we can do this without murdering people.”

“How about you yell that a little louder, then? Let everyone know that me and you are murderers. Sakamoto here didn’t need to know that, idiot." His arms cross tight against his chest, as he usually does when he’s fighting the urge to sock Akira. “Because, you haven’t forgotten that, right? You’re just as much of a killer as me, if not more.” He had never been forced to help with the missions. Shido didn’t even know about the ghost, no good would come from it assuredly.

Afternoon - 4/11

Goro hadn’t come here to bring it all back up to the surface again; he’s come to act out an apology! Seeing that idiot laughing, having a good time with another idiot set him off. In the middle of a palace was not the time to be making friends with someone. Especially someone who knew that they were the cause of the mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks. Akira just never thought these things through, did he. 

“Let’s just get out of here, okay? We’ll talk about this when we get home.” He winces slightly as he meets eyes with blond - Sakamoto he recalls. “Deal with him first, then. I’ll meet you underground.” 

Morgana’s still in the hallway, where Goro told him to keep watch. He stares up at the detective for a while, with the nastiest look imaginable. Then his gaze softens, and the cat-bobblehead turns to the other boys and smiles. “We can come back to this palace some other day, if you’d like.” Sakamoto gasps, and they turn to stare at him. Oh, right. 

“This is Morgana,” he doesn’t deem it necessary to tell the blond they found the talking cat whining about murder on the side of the road. “Ignore him.” The one in question looks awfully offended by that, and Goro hides a laugh. He spots Akira watching him for the corner of his eye. The look was oddly calm; no trace of underlying anger or resentment. Not that the ghost was truly capable of hating anyone, really. Goro wonders if Akira would hate him, finally, if he were to tell him the truth of his father/employer. Working for your murderer couldn’t exactly be a good experience, or a pleasant thing to learn, for sure. 

They enter the safe room again after a moment, to exit the distortion. He shakes his head at how easy it all seemed to him. Akira and Sakamoto had been stuck here for hours, useless without him. Decidedly, he doesn’t mention the fact that he would’ve been lost to the location of the palace with the stupid cat. It’s not important, in the big picture, and he thinks the others would agree with that statement. The others. That was wrong: it was just Goro, with Akira stuck to his side. They would return Sakamoto to reality, never having to deal with him again, then work out a plan to rid the world of all talking cats they come across. Actually, maybe it would be better to keep the two with them for now. As bait, of course, in this palace. It seemed apparent that his partner was dead-set on his goal to ‘change’ this pervert’s heart.

Changing hearts instead of straight-up murder. Stylistic changes, no biggie. Shido probably wouldn’t care either way, right? Goro was getting ahead of himself. Whether or not Shido would care that his hired assassin son was no longer an assassin didn’t matter in the slightest right now. What did, however, was that he had to let Akira go through with this plan, to get back on track. Speaking of, they had a little time left to finally take down that target in Mementos, didn’t they? Then it’s fully decided. He’d get the side characters out, then they’d finish their job and head to the apartment. There they could discuss the fastest way through this little overlap in the schedule, and he could convince the ghost he would overlook it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i switched the number of chapters to 9, but thats very much subject to change luv so eh. I was just looking at fics with the same length chapters, and also 9 is just a random number to be honest
> 
> I've been reading this amazing classical musician au (akeshu) and ughh i cant wait for it to be updated ( if anyone wants to the link ill give it to u )
> 
> nothing rlly happened in this chapter, i-  
> :(


	3. mementos target and drama yuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> goro fr sucks at social interaction

Evening - 4/11

The howling, oppressive atmosphere of the palace lifted from their shoulders, replaced with reality’s light spring air. Akira takes in a deep breath, swinging his arms around. He avoided hitting Goro at all, though; not being able to touch anything, or anyone, always came as such a shock after being in the metaverse all day. Luckily, they wouldn’t be in Tokyo for long, ignorant of their already exhausted bodies. What he wouldn’t give for a massage right about now. 

“Mementos,” Goro spoke, slowly into the phone. Like a mocking salesperson, the ghost liked to joke. His dad had been a salesman - he probably still was, all things considered. His parents had always been much too preoccupied with work to be healthy, at times, and it would be the least surprising to find out that they had simply worked through his death. In the beginning, when he could barely accept the fact that he had died, was dead but not quite, he cried almost every night in the detective’s apartment, worrying that his family hadn’t even noticed his death. Now, he knew that that was extremely irrational, that obviously they knew he was gone, so now he worried that it hadn’t mattered to them. That’s more than he wants to get into right now, and he turns to annoy Goro.

“Hey, do you think all cats can see me, or is it just Morgana? Cause, like, he’s a special, magic cat, and most cats are just normal, non-talking cats. Maybe they can sense me, you think? We should check out that cat cafe again sometime, you and me.” Akira ruffles through his coat pockets, pulling out a candy, dropped by some succubus just last week. “You know you love them.”

“You’re an idiot, you realise that, yes? Morgana is connected to the metaverse in some way, as are you.” He rubs his face under his mask. “Which makes him dangerous. We can’t have someone like that out there, against us or not.”

Akira shoved him with his shoulder as they climbed down a second flight of stairs. “No way! Morgana has the potential to be a very powerful ally, we could use that! And,” he pauses to detach a crawling red vine from his ankle. “if he really is connected, then wouldn’t that be helpful? Yeah, you’ve been doing this a long time, even without me, but there’s still so much you don’t know!”

“Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know what you don’t know! For starters, perhaps that we didn’t have to kill our targets?” Goro stares meanly at him for that. “I mean, Morgana had to tell us that, and-”

“But how did he know that, that we killed people? Yes, he had followed us in, but how long had he been watching us to draw that conclusion? How do we even know he’s working alone?” He shook his head, gripping onto the bottom of his mask. “God, Akira, you can’t just blindly trust people! Especially people that know your weaknesses!” They had stopped walking, facing each other in the middle of the area platform. Akira had to stop himself from stomping his foot; Goro could take anything as a signal of admitting defeat. 

“Everyone starts out as strangers, Goro! Until you find out what makes them vulnerable, and the other way! That’s how relationships work! You can’t keep yourself closed off from everyone!” He turns around, and continues the path they were walking. This wasn’t a new move by any means, and a burst of anger floods through Akira at the sight of his back. 

“Wait, Goro! It’s not safe to-” He goes to grab the other’s shoulder, but the detective grabs his wrist and twists it behind his back before he can pull away. There was no warning, no negotiating. He opens his mouth to protest, just as Goro’s hold loosens. His gaze lowers, his frown straightens. 

“Fine. I apologise. Let’s just get this over with. I don’t want to hear anymore of your self-righteous actualisations.” Slipping away, he starts walking again. Slower this time, as if expecting Akira to follow. He smiles, and rushes to catch up. No one in their right mind would like being in Mementos all on your own. He couldn’t wrap his mind around this fact that Goro was able to stand coming in here almost everyday as a young teen, to train and assassinate. Secretly, he thinks the other was relieved when he came along. 

Late Evening - ?/?

Akira’s baseball team was let out late again. The tournament was soon, but he wasn’t sure he qualified. Not like he really liked playing, anyways, it was just something to occupy him from the time he got out of school to the time he went to bed. Being home alone was never fun. He hears a shriek a few blocks down, and suddenly he has another excuse, another detour before going home. He heads toward the sound, occasionally hearing another voice over the screams. In a small town like this, most incidents here were ignored, or gossiped about profusely until no one could tell between what really happened and what was just drama. So it was no wonder he appeared to be the only person chasing the noise. Sometimes he thinks most people would prefer not knowing, would rather guessing what rumours were more fact. It was a game to Inaba, especially after the murders that happened here. 

Arriving in the middle of a dark street, he sees two figures struggling across the road from him. One’s tall, much taller than he is, and looming over the other person, the one seemingly screaming. How should he approach this? From this distance, he doesn’t think he recognizes either of them, so that drops a few tactics he’s seen in those cop shows. He’s rushing up to the pair before he can formulate a working plan, his feet carrying him towards danger before he can assess it. 

“Mind your business, kid, this got nothing to do with you.” The guy - up this close, Akira can see that the shine he saw from back there was the reflection of the streetlamp off of his smooth scalp - barks at him. 

“L- let go of her.” His voice shakes, just a little, like how his bat shakes when the pretty pitcher throws the ball towards him. He’s nervous, no shit, but this guy is nothing, right? Just a dick that can’t keep his hands to himself. Never has he fought with another boy his age, much less some buff, drunk man in stupid orange glasses. 

“I said, scram.” The man’s drunken slur is much more obvious right now, and the woman looks at Akira pleadingly. What was he supposed to do? The man’s hand was traveling lower and lower down her throat, into the neckline of her shirt, so he did the first thing he could think of. He swung. He wasn’t awake for the rest. Maybe that was when he died, shoved into the street as retaliation, only for a car to speed over him like a road bump. The driver hadn’t stopped, only driving away faster, further, until Akira couldn’t see the taillights anymore. 

Evening - 4/11

The rest of the walk to Chemdah was quiet. No shadows bothered them, as if affected by their angsty teenage expressions. A couple times, Akira had opened his mouth, lifting his finger to point at something interesting on the walls of the cognitive subway, and Goro had lifted his hand to the side of his head, under the guise of adjusting his mask or fixing his hair, but he knew. The other was quite literally covering his ears as to hear the ghost less. Petty.

Chemdah wasn’t much different from any of the other Mementos areas. It still gave off that uneasy feeling, with red, bleeding veins lining the walls, and depressing shadows sighing down the tracks. The further down underground they went, the more powerful the enemies; none they had encountered so far were any match for their personas. Goro currently had the two he always held in his possession, believing anymore would just be weak, weighing him down. Akira, on the other hand, was constantly switching out his collection. He had actually been meaning to swap out his Obariyon soon, hopefully for an Ippon-Datara, or even an Archangel. 

“I want you on defense, got it? Give me a couple Tarukajas, and don’t forget about a Rakunda this time.” Goro rolls up his sleeves. They head to the left to find a dead-end path, except for the back wall, a mess of red and black, like spilled paint inviting them in. Akira’s almost always put on defense in the beginning, until they find out what they’re working with, then Goro yells at him for wasting SP on passive spells. 

“Okay.” No point in arguing about something that happens every time. They enter, much like entering the true metaverse for Akira. They don’t need Goro’s phone to access this section, even though on the map it shows up as out of bounds. With the opponent now in front of them, Goro takes his mask off (he hates fighting with it on, says it’s too bulky) and puts his hair up in a short ponytail with a rubber band he took from Niijima-san’s desk. She’d look like a mouse with her hair up anyways, he had said in defense, when Akira hadn’t understood why he couldn’t have just gone to the store and gotten a whole pack for himself. He could’ve even gotten colourful ones! That was the first time the ghost had noticed some of Goro’s odder habits.  
“We’re here to kill you, take off your mask, please.” He sounded so bored. Maybe they should go to that cat cafe when they’re through with their job here. It would probably help with his overwhelming aggression. But first, Akira wanted to make sure the killing him part was just, like, a euphemism or something; he’d be hella’ pissed if Goro decided to just murder this guy, even after the talks they’ve had.

“Wait! I thought we agreed to try…”

“Yeah, whatever.” Goro rolls his eyes - someday they’re going to get stuck behind his eyelids - and raises his gun. He relaxes when he sees that the safety was still on. Of course, it was only an intimidation tactic. If you wish to fool your enemies, you must first fool your allies. Akira stifles a chuckle; that was a little more and more ironic every time he thought it. 

He doesn’t pay much attention to the fight, at all. As he predicted, Goro altered his commands, yelling at Akira to attack. The shadow had less than half his health left, just from Loki’s blows, surprisingly enough, and with a few especially powerful bullets he had fallen. 

“Ready?” 

Goro nods, tugging his ponytail tighter around the base of his skull, and jumps into place beside Akira. His sword is drawn, his chin angled down, eyes locked to the shadow’s trembling form. He runs his tongue along the underside of his top teeth, smirking. Blood lust was a powerful drug, it seemed, and he was slowly succumbing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away; a small part of him knew there was close to no chance of Goro going back on his word. The detective may have a few questionable morals, but his pride was held up high. Promises were not something he took lightly. However, the account of actually figuring out how wasn’t something Akira could stop worrying about with just some trust. 

“Goro, I-” His eyes are dark, red. “Just be careful, okay?”

There’s no reply this time, no sign of confirmation or acknowledgement. He only adjusts his hold on the weapon, only recalculates his attack. The look in the other’s eyes tells Akira that he’s thinking, hard about this. Because even if he didn’t agree with Morgana’s sentiments, he would still understand how much it meant to his partner, and together they could find some way to make it work. Obviously, murder was bad, so what was the worst that could come out of doing the opposite of a bad thing? That’s how Akira liked to think about it, at least, and while it might not have been the most logical, it’s what made the most sense to him. Simplifying complex situations could just be what he was the best at. 

The opponent before them - he remembers him as some unimportant guy (which was good, he supposes, because being important was usually synonymous with being corrupt ) who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one deserved to die, especially not from some ill teenagers’ hands, but this guy was seemingly innocent. If this new idea worked out, and didn’t anger Goro’s boss too heavily, then maybe a whole lot more of it, good, could occur. He finds himself growing giddy at the thought. The thought of what? Not labelling himself as a murderer? That would appear to be at the very ground, much below the bar. Although, he didn’t have to worry about society's standards much, what with being dead and all. Mostly, he allowed himself to only focus on his thoughts, his feelings; Goro would be included, but he wasn’t much for defining your perfect self. 

But, yes! The poor sap, on his knees, with a sword to his throat. Akira felt uneasy, of course, but that was quickly ignored when he saw the other’s expression. The detective was not one to be often unsure, yet here they were now. Even with no telling how long they had been stalling, he knew he’d have to step in. He didn’t mind, not at all, just a little light on his feet, in case his partner decided he was moving too fast for his tastes. 

“Do you… regret what you did?” Without knowing exactly what this man did to deserve such a cruel demise, it was hard to come up with things to say. This seemed to do the trick well enough, as he gazed up towards Akira with glossy eyes.

“I-I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s just, I had overheard a little bit, and I was only curious…” A sharp look from Goro, still holding his blade high, kept him talking still. “I didn’t even understand it anyway! Ha, I don’t even remember it either. To be frank, I’d had a little too much to drink that night.” Akira debated sitting on the floor; his legs were growing sore. 

“I had only heard a few… concerning words, and that’s all! I left where I was hiding to call the police, thinking it was some gang meeting or something. Normally I would just leave it at that, there’s no point in getting wrapped up in other people’s business like that.” He sits on the floor, now, and Goro struggles to keep his eyes on the target. It didn’t really matter, though, as long as their cognition of themselves stayed strong. That was the funniest thing to Akira, how cognition worked in the metaverse. It was sort of like, if he believed he was strong, then he was. So if he thought that sitting on the ground during an interrogation, or a hit - same difference, was a sign of power, then chances are, so did their enemy. He thought about this often. 

“We still have to deal with it somehow, you know.” Goro’s turned towards Akira, teeth clenched tight together as he whispered. Calling the shadow an ‘it’ but still talking quietly as to not be overheard. It would all be very humorous if there were no real lives at stake. 

“Yes, but no to killing him. Maybe we should just do what we always do, and our minds will make up for it, you know?” He smiled enthusiastically, to replace his lack of confidence. It was completely see-through. Goro nods absentmindedly, adjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

An unnatural wind rushes through Akira’s hair, started from the blade running through the shadow’s neck. His body fades into black mist, just as the others do. He tries to keep breathing, even as the dust of Mementos grows thicker and thicker in his lungs by the minute. Did they really do anything different? Why did Goro just do that, so quickly, so easily? Why didn’t Akira stop him?

“I thought maybe if I believed it wouldn’t kill him, then it wouldn’t.” The detective looks over to him with blank eyes, making a “you-know-how-it-is gesture, and continues explaining in a soft dull, tired tone. “Cognitive psycience madness.”

“We don’t know for sure yet. Just because-”

“Isshiki has proven again that she would’ve suited us better alive.” Akira recalls that being the name of the detective's first kill in the metaverse. It never seemed to weigh as heavily on him as when he made a mistake; it was as if the eighteen year old only needed a someone to blame in those moments. He never brought up his past missions, the ones he completed alone, without Akira, Unless he was feeling guilty about something. Which you can guess was not an everyday occurrence, at least that he shared with others. The ghost sometimes wished his partner allowed himself to confide in the people that cared for him, although some would consider Akira the sole member of that club.

“Let’s just go check, okay?” And he let the other lay his head on his shoulder. 

Morning - 4/12

Any sort of news like that would have to be something for Goro to confirm at the police station, given its status as a non-high profile case. They assumed they wouldn’t hear anything about it on the morning channels, but Akira had a feeling. A gut feeling. News wasn’t anything important, or interesting, to him. However, today his gut was telling him to watch the tv carefully. Rather being able to watch in the comfort of their own home, on their very nice flat-screen, his roommate dragged him to work with him.

“Why can’t you just leave the tv on for me?” Akira groaned, pulling at his lip. “People do it for their pets all the time!”

“I can’t just keep it on all day! It’s not you who’s paying the internet bills, is it?” Goro faked a cough when a co-worker looked curiously towards his way. Despite appearing on countless networks, countless times, his acting left much to be desired. Such as a cat cafe. It left Akira desiring a trip to the cafe, still. At least the employees there knew how to pretend to appreciate getting pet. Cats knew how to please an audience.

He crosses his arms, watching the only screen in the office. Nothing related to their victim had come up yet, at least he thought. What kind of story exactly should he be watching for? The man was a subway operator, as far as he knew, and nothing that sounded remotely similar to that had popped up. Goro was too busy with boring desk work to do much analysis with him, so he was forced to work alone; very much not as efficient, energy wise or any other way. Akira did not work well on his own, most of the time. Even while - especially while - his partner sat not five-feet away from him, having to pretend he doesn’t exist. Being ignored, even for a valid reason never felt good.

“Any idea what I should be watching for?” His gaze leaves the television to watch the brunette sag over his papers, scattered all over the wooden surface. Goro’s eye bags weren’t visible from this angle, but he knew they were there, dark still under layers and layers of thick concealer. Striking red eyes peer backup at the ghost, after skimming the room for wandering stares. Now, the makeup was unmistakable, in the direct fluorescent lights. 

“Murder, suicide, accident; news about someone dying or killing people. It’s not that complicated.” 

“Well, I’m not seeing anything like that.” He crosses his arms defensively over his chest. The other rolls his eyes, high enough to the sky that he probably saw the night sky in the western hemisphere. It wasn’t like it was Akira’s fault that the morning news wasn’t covering the important, juicy stories today. ( unless, he thinks to himself, I set off a butterfly reaction because of something careless that he did, and it is my fault that the reporters are only talking about old celebrity break-ups and how to dress for this week’s weather. )

“Look harder then, you idi- Good morning, Ma’am,” his code switches and he completely turns his back on the teen. “No thank you, I had a cup earlier.” Goro goes bright red as soon as the intern leaves his area. Getting caught seething insults- seemingly towards himself - was always just enough to fluster the otherwise impregnable detective. The flush was sort of cute, Akira admitted often.

Someone changed the channel on the screen now, to the stocks, and wheeled it into a small conference room down the hall. Great. Now what was he supposed to do? Glancing down at Goro, he can see that the other is too busy pretending to be engrossed within his assignments, and wouldn’t be of any help. Next venture: finding someone to secretly watch the news with. Everything he did was a secret, he drinks in. That seemed like a waste of time, if he was being honest, because couldn’t people look at articles on their phones? If only he would take a short break from his work, search through anything within the perimeters he set earlier. Akira didn’t quite have the stomach for death. 

Afternoon - 4/12

Goro had been left to focus on his task alone, in the quiet of the afternoon office. Akira had gone to god knows where in search of a shoulder to watch over. By this point, he kind of concluded that the news they were waiting to hear about was not going to be shared. Most murder, suicide, or general stories of death were not delayed past breakfast. Reporters and their writers loved shocking people right out of bed with the cruel world’s truth. But it gave something for the pest to do.

“Ah, Akechi. I’m headed out to the courthouse right now for a trial, but I wanted to stop by and ask about what we discussed earlier.” Niijima-san. The inflection in her voice suggested a question where there wasn't one. That type of nervousness in a conversation never failed to cross Goro.

“I haven't been able to talk to the bosses about it. Apologies, Niijima.” He smiled kindly, pushing his chair out a bit to put a leg over the other. His head tilts back to look her in the eyes. “I can try to make a call to him later, once I’ve finished up here.” 

She looks to want to say more, but shut her mouth and nods tightly. “Okay, I understand, Akechi. Have a good day.”

“I wish I could guarantee it, Niijima. I’ll get back to you the minute I know anything.”

Now alone again, Goro pulls out his phone to double-check the information about their target, the one they took down the day before. Shido hadn’t called or messaged him at all since the previous week, and it was starting to bother him. They hadn’t been that late with the assignment, no. It was only two days after the ‘recommended’ date, and if it hadn’t appeared on the news today, then maybe Shido hadn’t been expecting it to appear on the news at all. It was possible he assumed he had finished the task on the day instructed, as there really was usually no need to confirm completion. Maybe he should discuss this with Akira first.

“Ah, Goro! I’m back!” A voice sings, taunting him. He sighs; should’ve waited before commanding the devil himself to his location. Of course the ghost comes when beckoned. However, with the stream of interns leaving early at this hour, there was no room for him to be seen talking to a spirit at his desk. Either to leave or to find a secluded spot in the building to converse, but they had to move.

As he knew Akira was right by his shoulder, he typed a message onto the notes app on his phone reading, “not now” and held it up, inconspicuously, but still so the other could see the words clearly. He nods and hurries to the backhall of the office; he hasn’t yet decided if he’s done working for the day. With his particularly -unique- position, Goro could leave now without consequence. He doesn’t make it a habit, though, to leave unfinished work for the next day. That just made for a god-awful work ethic, and an ass of an impression on his co-workers. What would make an even worse impression, he chuckles to himself, is being found in an empty hallway arguing ( about murder ) with no one.

“Did you find anything?” Akira asks. He sounds a little excited, and Goro hopes he doesn’t have to prepare to shut down a string of dirty minded jokes about needing to find someplace to be alone.

“No. I looked over everything again, just to be sure.” Goro pulls out a manilla folder; inside are the printed copies of all the information Shido gave them about the target. It was only a few pages of basic data, such as his name, age, profession. Not enough to discover anything else of importance, unfortunately, but he knew better than to expect anything. It was too much to ask to just easily find a missing persons report, or something like that. He’d been working long enough in law, and he’d been living long enough with Akira to know his luck had gone down the drain.

“I didn’t either, but guess what I did see!”

Goro didn’t want to play along. 

“I’m guessing…”

He played along. 

“I ran into Ryuji, you know, Sakamoto, from yesterday, and he could see me. I can’t remember if we checked that after leaving the palace, but he can see me!” That was a little intriguing, as well as concerning. Goro’s main theory for as to why he appeared to be the only person who could see the ghost was because he was with him in Mementos, at his death. But Sakamoto hadn’t been there, obviously. So was that assumption wrong? What was it that allowed certain people to see Akira? He hates to admit it - Akira might’ve been right last night, when he was suggesting going to Morgana with questions. There’s no way he knew more than they did, but maybe there would be something new to learn. And then, afterwards, they could relive their lives of the wretched thing.

“Where did you see him?” Goro wonders before he can stop himself. Does the answer really matter?

“Nevermind that, actually. We will have to deal with him at a later date.” Deal with him, as in deal with him. Perhaps he’d be able to take both the blonde and the cat out at the same time, with the same blow. Akira would be very impressed with that, he thinks, and maybe he would be less upset about losing some friends. They were dangerous, sure, but from the ghost’s perspective he can see where the sudden attachment is coming from. He lives in his own little world, quite literally, and feeling alone wouldn’t be entirely unreasonable, he supposes. Having randomly found two additional people to interact with, after being stuck with grumpy work-a-holic ( thought he would never admit it out loud ) for months.

“Do we have to go back to the apartment now? That one show is premiering tomorrow tonight, you know, and I really don’t want to miss it! We should go to the cafe today, so I can be home to watch it tomorrow.” Goro rolls his eyes, shoving the file back under his arm. He walks off without another word.

Evening - 4/12

The cafe wasn’t too unreasonable a walk away, and they got there just as work traffic was starting to intensify, overworked middle class citizen’s speeding down the road behind pedestrian’s heels. This area they were in, known for bad drivers and beautiful sunsets, was host to many establishments just like this one. Primarily, the cafe was for those businessmen rushing home, but instead the usual foot traffic was young children and seniors.

Goro hadn’t been since he was younger, with his mother. He thought such an outing at this age was detrimental to his mental maturity; Akira, on the other hand, didn’t really have that to worry with. His mental maturity issues were probably never to be dealt with, as that would be too much work, and Goro already has enough on his plate from the ghost anyway.

“Hey! Get that one, yes, the orange one, to come over here!” Akira made needy hands towards the roaming kitten. His fur wasn’t really orange, more brown, and the creature was sleeping. Did he expect him to wake a sleeping animal? It's not the worst thing he’d be doing this week. 

“Here.” He’d make Akira do it himself, if that were possible. Now, though, he just wanted to get the cat over to the bed closest to the ghost without waking it up. It was a little disheartening, seeing his partner’s face slowly lose the light there was before they came in. Cats were special to him, it was obvious, but in his current condition he couldn’t even pick one up. That must be devastating for someone like Akira - who was easily excitable, optimistic, and social - to not be able to interact with anyone. Not even cats could see him; it seemed they had to be special, disgustingly moronic cats. 

“Are you done yet?” It was getting late, and Goro still wanted to finish up his work for tonight, since he left earlier from the office. Although he wasn’t sure how long Akira could be here, with reminders of his death-li-ness, he was about fifty-percent willing to stay here as long as he’d like. Within reason, of course.

“I - Goro..” Akira’s voice was crackling, thin and worn. Was he..? He looks over, eyes flickering down to the cat, which appeared to be sitting in the ghost’s lap. Which shouldn’t be possible, and cannot actually be happening. Right? The teen, the detective that he is, leans in closer, and sees that it is, in fact, not happening. Akira is only squatting over the chair, as he does to appear to be sitting (he feels no pain, dead, therefore he could squat for as many hours as he would like, and his thighs would never cramp.) The cat, the brown one, sat on the seat Akira was pretending to occupy and do the same. He wonders if the cat could sense the ghost, feel him sitting there.

Looking back at Akira, he sees the tears streak onto his transparent cheeks, and a tear in either eye, racing to his chin. Before he could even think of belittling the boy for crying, the air swirled around them, as Akira stood and pressed his hand against the door of the cat cafe. There must have been one of those access points, as the other called them. He had never seen one, although he doesn’t think it’s something he should be able to see. It’s decidedly an Akira thing, and Goro nods agreeably when the ghost looks a little apologetic about pulling him into the metaverse like that. He can’t even be mad when he’s pulled unexpectedly into a hug, either. 

Evening - 4/13

The show was airing right now, and from Akira’s first impression: it was stupid. He thought it could be something cool to watch with Goro each week when a new episode released, but he quickly grew bored of the pilot. Although, dead, he didn't really need sleep, he could still go unconscious if he put enough effort into it. Tomorrow, he hoped, would be spent more towards something fun, hanging out, instead of overworking and overthinking. The case was pushed to the back of his mind while complaining with his roommate about the show, but now as he tried to sleep it was the sole thought on his mind.

Had they really killed that man? Supposedly, they’ve killed several others in the same way. He takes note that he’d like to ask Goro to show him the articles on those murders, before talking to Morgana about it. They had tried to do things a little different this time, right? That felt like an excuse. A man died, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the two of them didn’t try hard enough to work out a way to help him live. Who were they to dictate who lived and who died? Who was Shido to decide that for them? He’d never even met Shido, never talked to him, never looked him in the eye, and yet he knew he was going to have major beef with the dude. Of course, Akira would like to know more before engaging with a murdering mastermind, if he could be called that. He doesn’t even do his own work, doesn't even kill his enemies himself! Coward.

“Hey, come take a look at this.” Goro was calling him from the kitchen table, where he sat amongst stacks of paper and an open laptop. On the laptop’s display there was a news article with a video link at that top. The detective clicked to open it.

Immediately, they were shown a devastating scene. A speeding train, it seemed, hadn’t been able to stop in time at the platform, reeling off the tracks. There was smoke everywhere, and the black and white monitoring from the station cameras could barely pick up the debris flying through the air in front of their view. Audio came and went, crackling and popping and huffing. They could just barely make out the smoky silhouettes of people stumbling their way out of the crumpled subway doors. 

Goro sets down the folder from earlier onto the keyboard. Opening it, he takes out the paper on top, to hand it to Akira, who instantly goes to grab it. It only goes through his hands two times before he realises a) he can’t hold anything in the real world and b) what was actually printed on the paper. The name at the top was one he didn’t recognise, but the ID picture beyond that was concerningly familiar. It was just the face that had been imprinted in the back of his eyelids for the past twenty-four hours. Why was he showing him the target’s identification? Sur, he was a subway operator, but… Did they cause this? It was plausible, because why else would the detective be showing him this? If the operator of a running subway were to die on route, of course the vehicle would crash dramatically like shown. 

“Do you…” He couldn’t bring himself to continue the question they both knew was going to be asked.

“Yes, I think that might be the case. Given the circumstances, we can’t theorise based on well-timed coincidences. Still, I think it’s highly likely that this is our target.” Goro leaned back on the stool and crossed his arms. “This, if we’re assuming the theory as truth, seems more than the usual mental shutdowns.”

The more Akira learned about what they were actually doing in the metaverse, the more he heard those words. Phrases like, “mental shutdown,” or “psychotic breakdown” became an almost constant buzzing in the back of his skull. And the more he looked into these events, the more things clicked into place. His major remaining questions were why Shido was ‘doing’ it - demanding Goro to do it, in actuality - and if Shido knew what they were doing, with the metaverse and all. Not many normal people could fathom a supernatural world like that coexisting through time without your knowledge. Object permanence affected most people in demented, disorienting ways. Some could spend their whole lives contemplating the logistics and psychology of stuff like that, that to Akira didn’t really matter all that much. He was alive - not too much anymore, though, but he felt alive - and he knew that the people he cared for still existed outside of his field of vision, unlike some tortured cat. 

“So, what does this mean, for us? For your boss, for the riders?” He bit his lip to calm himself when Goro gave a low-effort shrug of apology. “We’re not giving up; we can’t! It might not have worked out this time, but we have to try and find out what went wrong, and what to do next time.” Goro may be a murderer by profession, but he wasn’t in his heart. Akira was sure of this, even though the other was not. Killing people didn’t make you a murderer; well, it did, but… There was more to the detective than that.


	4. i dont even remember what happens in this one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> goro cries somewhere in this, so does akira xoxo

Afternoon - 4/12

“Ryuji, hide!” Morgana warned, face pressed against Akira’s shoulder. Instead of going to main Shibuya, like he told Goro he would be going, he ended up tracking down where the monster cat was. It was lucky Morgana had been in the metaverse, or else Akira doesn’t think he would’ve been able to sense him. Maybe it’s different with Goro, cause they’re closer. Now, though, he was behind a pillar, with the cat crawling up onto his shoulder. They were back in Kamoshida’s palace, with Ryuji leading them through the cages and cages of abused volleyball players. Getting balls cannoned into their bruised faces, swung around on a net from the ceiling, and some just laying on the floor of a cell, holding their heads in their hands.

“We have to help them! I swear to god, I’m going to kill that disgusting son of a-” 

“There’s a time and a place for that, idiot! And now you’ve done it, you’ve attracted the guards. Get behind me, amateurs.” The cat pushed the blond out of the way, readying his sword. Akira rolled his eyes in a playful fashion, twisting around to wink at Ryuji. Despite not yet having a persona, the boy was surprisingly fervent, passionate. The type of emotion that evoked sparks from Goro’s hair as he picked himself up off the ground after a friendly duel, one in which Akira was holding the upper hand. The type of intensity he feels after entering the metaverse, letting his feet drag along the floor, casually bumping shoulders with the detective, and slicing through shadows. Ryuji had the potential, he was sure of it, but in this moment, they had to put him on the sidelines, out of the shadows reach. Akira only wishes he knew the blond hadn’t had a persona the other day, and hadn’t let him get hit so hard instead of him in battle.

“Zorro!”

Akira wondered, every so often while they were traversing the castle, why Morgana only ever used that persona. No offense to the cat at all, but it didn’t even appear to have any strong skills. In fact, his persona was weaker, or barely on level with the shadows they fought. He wasn’t too concerned about it, of course, since they’d been doing just fine with how things are going. Maybe Morgana knew the persona was weak, and used it to compensate for that, as training. There was really no way to tell without asking, and that seemed a little more than rude. Goro would have no problem inquiring, however. 

Speaking of, the ghost felt a tiny bit of shame at sneaking behind his partner’s back like this. It wasn't like Goro didn’t have any secrets that he was keeping from Akira. This wasn’t huge, right? When they finished with Kamoshida’s palace, and there was proof that you could change someone’s heart in the metaverse without killing them, then he would talk to the detective about it. Surely by then he’d be dying to join, happy to do some real good with his powers.

The shadow made for easy target practice, barely attempting to dodge attacks, and only casting Marin Karin, which missed every time. He stifles a laugh, calling for Morgana to attack. Some enemies really do act like npcs. Ryuji could probably take it out with a strong stare, maybe a sucker punch to the jaw. That would have to be saved for later, sadly, because Morgana’s Garu toppled the sad excuse for an opponent with no resistance. 

“Here, help me get this cage open! There's a lock, but I think we can bend the bars if we-” Ryuji stops talking to put his hands on the metal, pulling apart with all his might. Grunting as if it was the hardest thing he’s had to do in the metaverse, which, Akira supposes, is probably not too far off. His new side team really did need some more experience before even dreaming of a plot to take down Kamoshida, peacefully. 

“Idiot! Did you not hear me explain earlier?” Morgana rolled his eyes, hopping past the cage. They had indeed, not, heard his explanation, although Akira’s half-sure there wasn’t one. “These people aren’t real, they’re just in the palace’s cognition.”

Ah. He might’ve heard something like that from the cat. Or maybe from Goro? It seemed like something Goro would emphasize. Akira might fixate on the details of the metaverse, but it was really the detective that understood all of it, uncovered the reason behind it all. So if each one of the abused students were only figments of the bastard’s imagination, there was no point in focusing on saving them. Inherently, by killing - no not killing, changing - Kamoshida, these students would be freed in the real world. That’s what they had to focus on.

A castle was a new setting for him, and possible Goro. He never mentioned much about work he’s done before meeting Akira. There’s not much different within this palace and the last one they destroyed, except the obvious aesthetic design. The last delusion they’d entered was… boring to say the least. Castles were cool, though. Cooler than the botanical garden the other guy had in his heart. The whole concept of having different ideals and views of your own on how people perceived you was wildly intriguing. It was crazy to him, to think, that the average person had no idea this supernatural kind of stuff even existed.

“There’s a safe room right here! I think we’re super close to the treasure, guys.” Morgana held the door open for the two boys with both of his small hands. “If you want to leave now, Akira, I don’t see any issue with that. If we rest up I’m sure we’ll take Kamoshida down in one or two more trips!” That seemed like an okay plan. Ryuji was beginning to become more than a little frustrated at not being able to fully join in, and even Akira was feeling just a tad antsy thinking about Goro figuring out what they were doing behind his back. 

Ah. Speaking of Goro, yet again. “Hey, Ryuji? Can I talk to you for a second?” The blond looks up from where he was staring sadly, pitifully, down at Morgana’s sword. He wipes a bead of sweat off his brow, before addressing him again. “Listen, about Goro, my partner. Uhm, can you promise me to just keep him sort of a secret?” Akira wasn’t sure who Ryuji would tell, but given that the known metaverse users were increasing like baby rabbits, it wasn’t totally impossible to be convinced that someone else could be joining their team soon.

“Why? No judging, dude, I’m sure you have your reasons. But… you can trust me, you know. Me and Morgana.” He scratches the back of his neck, seemingly searching for the words. With the mask Akira wore in the metaverse, it was hard for the two of them to make eye contact, sure. They fidget for a second, content within their own respective uncomfortableness. 

“It’s just… I know you heard some of our argument the other day, right? And I know I can trust you, I know! But it’s just important to me and Goro that all of that doesn’t get out. I’ll do anything, tell you anything, if you’re willing to keep this a secret for me.” Akira shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. In the safe room, the only thing they have to worry about is their awkwardness. No shadows to blame for the strong feeling of danger lurking behind each shifting eye.

“Sure, man, but to be honest I wasn’t really listening. Besides! I don’t know how long you’ve been dead for...People are really accepting these days!” Ryuji nodded wildly, pushing a thumbs-up with one hand while the other shoves a chocolate bar into his mouth. What was that supposed to mean? Accepting? He’d only been dead for a few months, and nothing the blond was spewing made a lick of sense.

“Accepting? I-” It clicked. Exactly what the living teen thought his relationship was with the detective finally came to light. “No! It’s not like that, Ryuji!” Morgana walked over at this point, eager to join their conversation. They’d been using their hands a lot more than usual, as they grew more and more aware of the continuing misunderstandings.

“Akira! Amateur! What’s going on? Have you decided when we’re going to come back here?” The cat plays with his ascot for a moment before grabbing Ryuji’s phone from his pocket. It’s not like he had opposable thumbs or anything, so the boy didn’t act too protective over it this time. “Let’s just leave now, so frizzy hair over here can get back to his partner, and I’ll find the two of you when the time’s right!”  
He pressed a button, as if to leave the metaverse. They both knew better though, because he could use the same access points Akira could.

As soon as they had entered the real world, the sidewalk outside Shujin Academy, the blond checked his phone for any discrepancies. He soon found a selfie of Morgana in his magic outfit. Stupid cat. It was kind of funny though, so they decided not to delete it.

Evening - 4/13

Goro closed his laptop down for the night, stealing a glance over towards his roommate. He had taken up the couch yet again, doing the thing where he...the detective wasn’t actually entirely sure what the ghost was up to when he did that. It seemed a little like sleeping, but when asked about it, he said he never slept. If he was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t because he had already done that plenty this week, Goro would admit that one of his few escapes was in fact sleeping. It might’ve seemed a little pitiful to the detective that his roommate couldn’t sleep, like, at all anymore. Supposedly, the dead didn’t need any sleep, in the eternal resting state, but sometimes it seemed like Akira would still get tired. Maybe it was a consequence of his unacceptance of his death. Most normal teenagers wouldn’t be content with dying young, either, he thinks logically. 

“Akira?” Goro was tempted to shake the boy out of his slumber, but something about his restless expression pained him. The memory of yesterday came into his mind, of the other crying in his arms. Up until that point, he hadn’t realised how much his anaphia had affected him the previous day. Surely, a typical partner would notice something like that. He, of course, wasn’t a typical partner; Akechi Goro was a murderer, and Kurusu Akira was dead. Typical partnerships were much different, he supposes. He followed up with the first iteration of the Prince Detective, actually, and he thinks having partners really wasn’t necessary.

“What’s going on?” Akira sat up slowly, from where he was floating on his back above the couch cushions. With his eyes on Goro now, the red tine was much more visible, his eyelids just the tiniest bit swollen. Where his hands fell upon the leather of the back of the couch, Goro’s fell just inches beside them. It really was pitiful, he decided for sure this time, how close they had gotten. Sometimes in the metaverse it felt like they were truly partners, friends, not just people shoved together by fate; although that was exactly what they were. If he hadn’t answered that call.. 

“Nothing, just, uh, checking on you. You hadn’t moved in a while, so I thought maybe you were really dead this time.” Now wasn’t the time for sentiments, or even jokes to be honest. The joke he did make may have been in poor taste, but Akira usually didn’t see it like that. Rare was the occasion Goro even attempted to be funny, and the ghost knew to savour those moments.

“Oh, ok. I’m only feeling a little tired.” Tired? From running around trying to find information, he supposes. “But, if you’re up for doing something I’m ready!” That was stupid. What would he want to do at two hours to midnight? The jazz club was possibly still open, sure, but at this time of the month it was no fun, with all the work Goro was making up at the office.

With cases, most detectives had observed an odd pattern. Each month, cases skyrocketed, but only for a week or two at most. The most accepted theory is that of a domino affect. One person or group decides to commit a huge crime, randomly, at any time in the month, and other people use the time that follows to take advantage of the chaos, and a third follows them; so on and so forth. He wasn’t sure if any of that connected to the metaverse, though. However, he had noticed that during these days of high criminal activity, Mementos was a lot different. Shadows were more active, the veins beating on the walls were much more audible, sounding more and more like a true heartbeat with each law broken, and sometimes there was a much more concerning change. It had only happened a few times, mind you, but each time felt like getting the wind knocked out of him.

On days after they completed a big target, typically during those special weeks, Akira was visible outside of the metaverse. For only a few hours, the ghost was no longer a ghost; he could interact with the real world, be seen by the normal eye as alive, and generally seem as he once was. It distressed both boys, extensively, to know that they had no control over the situation at large. It must be especially awful for Akira, though, even more so afterwards when he has to get used to not being able to touch things any longer. His leading idea about the whole thing is that the effect they had on the metaverse after taking a prominent figure down impacted Akira’s half-real, half-metaverse world just as much as it affected the actual real world. There was no way to tell, of course. He only wished he knew how to stop it. If they couldn’t keep Akira like that, then why bother letting him experience that at all? 

“There’s nothing to do. Put a movie on if you’re bored.” He tries not to snap, but it’s possible that he did, just a tad. Heading to the kitchen for a quick tea before bed, he turns away from the younger boy, prying his fingers off the furniture. Should he offer tea as a joke? Considering how yesterday went, it was highly likely it would fall flat. He decides against it, trailing his finger over the kettle handle.

Morning - 4/14

His head still ached from the hit he took yesterday, when his brain had bounced around in its cage, threatening to spill out from his ears. From the way Morgana threw that Dia spell at him, it was obvious that the attack was stronger than the usual spells they were facing in battle. It seemed familiar to something Goro would use, with his persona Loki. With only two personas that he held onto at all times, despite all the other unique ones they ran into, the detective’s skill set was easily memorised by Akira. He, himself, held as many personas as he could at a time, no matter how loud they screamed in his head at each other. That was usually about twelve, but when he really wanted to push his mental capacity and self hatred he could withstand the personality types of more than fifteen. 

Today, he wasn’t sure what he was planning to do. He was stuck between staying at home with Goro, who didn’t work today, or heading to Kamoshida’s palace with the others. If Morgana’s estimates were indeed accurate, then they were only looking at a few more hours of work until they reached the treasure. No one had really explained that yet, either, actually. The only thing in the centre of a palace he had ever seen was a clear floaty thing, but their hands went straight through that. Was the treasure something unmeasurable, connected directly to the delusion? Or maybe it was on the shadow of the palace ruler. Wouldn’t that mean they could’ve picked it up from a previous boss fight? There was no way they were just missing such an important drop this whole time! 

So, basically, he could go to ask the cat those questions, and maybe find the answer in a more hands-on way, or he could stay here at the apartment with his partner. They probably didn;t have anything to do today, but knowing Goro like he did, he was sure to be roped into some unnecessary and taxing work. Preferably, kicking ass in Mementos sounded like a great way to spend his free Sunday. But with the way the week had been going, a call from Shido sounded more and more unlikely. He hadn’t called when the assignment was late, and didn’t respond at all to the news regarding their target. Akira was surprised someone like Goro could even put up with an employer like that. The boy was more hot headed than he would ever admit, and although sponentity wasn’t his strong point, he was rather impulsive for someone so controlling over every little detail of his own life. 

“Do we have anything planned for today?” Was it too much to hope for a yes?

“No.” Yes, it was. Goro gave him a weird side eye before continuing with his morning coffee. “I have some paperwork left to finish, and I have to stay free in case I get a call.” There wasn’t any service to the real world in Mementos, was what he was saying, so there would be no trips for the time being. It might be too suspicious if Akira leaves for a full day with no solid excuse. Also, he can’t remember the last time he hadn’t stayed at the apartment when the detective had a day off. Out of character? Indeed. And as a thief - or an aspiring one, planning to steal a king’s treasure - he prided himself on his sneaking ability. It hadn’t even been a whole three days since the idea had popped into his head; he couldn’t get caught this early into the game.

“Ah. Have you still not heard from Shido?” He knew the answer, but maybe talking about it would reveal a loophole he could slip through. 

Goro looks up from his mug, unimpressed. “No, I haven’t. That’s why I said I’m waiting on a call.” Akira fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t a child. “If you want to go, by all means, go.”

The ghost picks at his nails for a moment. His middle finger is almost completely torn off, never to be reattached, most likely. At the times where, after they finish a metaverse distortion, he’s solid again, the pain of his death catches up to him like the feel of a bad sunburn after a beach day. With all the broken bones and internal bleeding his body is forever stuck enduring, it’s a shock that he’s even able to stand while ‘alive again’ at all. 

“You mean that?” Dang, he sounds too excited. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to leave you alone…”

“I’ll be fine on my own.” Goro pops his knuckles. “Listen, I-” taking a breath, he starts tapping his fingers against the table, missing eye contact. “I know you were meaning to change that teacher’s heart, and I want you to know that I’m willing to help with that. Sorry for.. The things I said, but I really do mean it. I wish to find out this method, as well.” He takes a pause, examining Akira’s expression. “But, without the stupid monster cat, yes?”

Akira stifles a laugh, closing his lips and staring down at the tile. It was understandable, to say the least, Goro’s inherent distrust of literally everyone around him. From what he’s gathered, he hadn’t had the best homelife, at all, and even at a young age all he was known for was the good he could do for others. Being a detective fit the bill, it seemed, even if he didn’t quite enjoy doing it. Actually, did he like the work? He’d never asked.

“Weird question, but… do you like being a detective?” Akira leaned back against the couch, his actual back only inches away from the leather. “Like, is it any fun for you?”

Goro seemed taken aback. It was likely no one had asked him that, ever. “Do I enjoy it? It’s work, Akira. I suppose I like it a bit more than simply sitting around, but no, it’s not fun for me. Also, I’m a consultant, working for the police. I am not a detective.” Ah. That makes enough sense. He also has to go to cram school, on top of his full time job and television appearances. Too big a workload wouldn’t be fun for even the most dedicated work-a-holic.

The phone rang, then. Their eyes met, widening comically. The call was expected, yes, but was he ready to pick it up?

Morning- 4/14 

Akira had been pushed unceremoniously out of the front door. The only other place to go would be the metaverse, with Morgana and Ryuji. Biggest problem with that: he’s so goddamn tired. Gore wasn’t going to let him stay at home to rest, and that was an issue. He was left with few other options, none of them as appealing as they ought to be. Walking around sounded better than subjecting himself to another day of fighting seemingly endless waves of under-powered shadows. It would’ve been much more exciting, thrilling, if the battles had been challenging. With Goro, the fights were always exhilarating; they were constantly looking for the strongest enemy in sight, and with his unique personas,it was rare they came across something that wasn’t instantly shocked by them. While they both tended to gather up any defeated shadows as fighters, Goro usually stuck to his two original personas, the ones he had before meeting Akira.

“Oh, goodness me!” The elderly woman from next door was muttering to herself. Some sort of plant was sitting on her doormat, wilting and brown. It definitely wasn’t like her to let it die like that, and the expression on her face reflected that. Whatever had happened to the plant wasn’t her fault; he felt oddly at blame here, even though there was nothing he did, and nothing he could do to help. Although she might suspect Goro has a neighbour from when he could be seen, he couldn’t be seen right now. 

If he left now, and she was still out of her apartment when he got back, he would try to talk Goro into helping her. That resolved his hero complex for the moment being. 

Morning - 4/14

A call from Shido: expected, but not entirely welcome. He was sure nothing the man had no heart to send his messages from, and according to a small part of his own brain, Goro hadn’t a heart either, to accept those messages. That couldn’t be further from the truth, obviously, because he puts up with Akira day-to-day, and only occasionally, temporarily, gets cross with the boy. Rarely, of course, does he get mad enough that he later picks apart each of his similarities to his parents. Not a single part of him was his own person, curse genetics. The only thing about himself that one could possibly consider in and of himself, completely and totally his own, was his experiences. Growing up an orphan, the self-hatred and pessimism necessary to make it anywhere in that life, could be the only thing he truly owns. He argues that his experiences are only due to his parent’s actions, his mother’s suicide and his father’s… each and everything that man has done wrong. All of that has accumulated into who he is today. He’s not happy with it, to be honest. 

“Good morning.” He was so goddamn tired. Each syllable felt like a punch to his throat. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” Of course there was, Shido didn’t just randomly call to check in on him like a normal father would. 

“I see you did what I asked.” Asked. Asked, not demanded. The man was a liar even towards himself. “It was messy, however, and now it has fallen upon me to clean up the aftermath. An accident of that caliber is something that even my team will struggle to cover up.” His team. He says that like they were allies, but in reality it was a group of unpaid bastards licking up the crumbs their supervisors drop. “Avoid such mistakes, in the future.”

Goro was left alone at that moment, feeling even more exhausted. He hadn’t said more than two words, and the conversation hadn’t lasted more than sixty seconds. Pathetic, falling apart like this, over something so small. A piece of him disagrees with that. This wasn’t small, it was collective; this had been collecting his whole life, collecting since he first went to Shido and told him of the metaverse, told him he could aid in his quest to rule Japan, the world. 

He doesn’t mean to cry, he doesn’t need to cry, he doesn't want to cry. No time for tears, he tells himself, as he puts his cell down, opening his laptop. Work, he had work, he had to work. But the screen was blurring; he couldn’t see the words he was typing. Exiting out of the tab didn’t help, as the alternate tab was still open to the crash video, looping the scene over and over and over and over…

Goro slams the computer closed, rubbing his eyes violently, forcefully, vigorously, combating the streams of tears leaking down his painted cheekbones. His makeup was running, he knew that just from the black smudges of mascara on his knuckles, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. What he really needed to think about was why he was crying. There was no pain, except for an omnipresent ache in his upper back and the cracking of his skull, and there was nothing to be sad about. Unless you counted the call from Shido, which he didn’t, he hadn’t even experienced anything in the last forty-eight hours that would even amount to a breakdown of any sorts. His brain behind his eyes ached, his tears draining the colour from his apartment. 

Akira was much more comfortable in this element, but even then the boy didn’t open up to people beyond the surface level ‘deep secrets.’ It didn’t seem like it most of the time, with his open personality, Akira really didn’t share all too much. His personality seemed to reflect whoever he was with, or the opposing equivalent. Much more obvious it was in the metaverse, when the ghost would give every persona the exact answers they needed to join his ‘cause.’ 

By focusing on analyzing the other boy, he had easily drawn the attention off of his own discomfort, swiftly ending his panic. It wasn’t often he had anxiety attacks like that, only addressed that way by his roommate, under his breath as he tried calming Goro down. This wasn’t like that, though, as it was only ordinary for humans to require an emotional outlet every once in a while, Maybe he’d just been overworking himself a little more than usual this week. He would just have to make sure to keep himself in check, to prevent any other crying sessions occurring anytime soon. 

He had work to do, anyway.

Daytime - 4/14

It turned out his only real option was heading to Kamoshida’s castle. The atmosphere was just as oppressive as the other day, and Morgana and Ryuji were nowhere in sight. It seemed in character for the two of them to come to the metaverse, no matter if Akira was planning to as well or not. They must be inside already, he decides, and picks through his arsenal for his Angel. When he wanted to really whip out the weak guys, he tended to bring her to the forefront of his mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was wrapped in intricate binding, or the fact that she was born from his bond with the detective. Justice. 

When he entered the big doors, however, there were no roaming shadows in sight. Was that a good sign? It could mean that they were meeting somewhere, planning something big; although he’s not sure the guards even had the mental capacity to be doing such a thing. On the other hand, it could mean that the other two had gone on ahead without him, like he had thought, and defeated the low-level enemies that attack in the main hall. He found it sort of odd that Morgana, the picture of forced responsibility and control, would take the uncontrollable teenaged boy with no personas at the moment into a battle front. 

“Captain Kidd!” A boisterous voice booms from up the stairs, above the main hall. Having done it hundreds of times in the past month, he recognizes the call as a plea for a persona. It wasn’t Morgana’s high pitched squeal, but it was still a familiar voice. Had it been Ryuji? It made perfect, for him to develop the power, but it made him a little upset to have missed his awakening. The only one he’s ever gotten to see in person is Goro’s persona Robin Hood, ripping through his chest. Recalling what he had said, that it was much more painful a process than his first time, with Loki, Akira worries momentarily for Ryuji’s wellbeing. He didn’t have a true persona to understand the discomfort awakening to one might be, but he did encounter the pain of registering one as his own multiple times a day. 

He rushes up the stairs, arriving at the landing in no time at all. Flashes of light were appearing to his right, yellow and blinding. A static filled the air, igniting the hairs on the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose across his skin, as he stared in shock towards the pair.

The persona Ryuji had summoned was one he’d never seen before, like Goro’s, which sat a little off inside of him. His general agreement in understanding personal personas is that something special has to happen, either something very good or very bad, and that’s why he didn’t have one of his own yet, only the ones he picks up. For the blond to have one, especially for him to be using it right now, he must’ve been absent to something extraordinarily important to the life of his friend. 

“Ryuji, try harder!” While he watches the ‘Captain Kidd’ throw a surprisingly heavy packed bolt of electricity towards the enemy, a High Pixie, he spots Morgana standing behind Ryuji, barking critiques. He winces as if he’s the one being called an idiot, belittled.

“Akira!” The monster cat’s beckoning him over, to the centre of battle. The High Pixie had been wiped out, leaving only a Genbu and a Berith. Lucky for them, the standard Genbu is weak to electric, and Ryuji happened to have an awfully strong wielder equipped. He jumps into the circle, between the other two. 

“Ryuji, use Zio!” The blond listens without question, calling upon his powers. It knocked the shadow down, leaving the Berith steaming out of its ears. They had to do something about that guy, too. And, with the extra window the attack gave them, Akira instructed his teammate one more time. “Use someone with ice! I don’t have any on me right now.” 

Instead of another swift blow, he receives an awkward and confused look. “I don’t think I’m the one to ask, buddy.” Dang, did he not have any ice skills either? Judging by the twin look on Morgana’s face, neither did he. Suppose just good old brute force would have to do. With a couple solid hits, the Berith is on its knees in front of the three, its horse crouched down with their head to the floor. 

As he brings his gun level with the Berith’s eyes, he turns to his friends. “Anyone want him?” He already had a similar fighter, and the chatter in his head was already at overwhelming levels. Ryuji, on his left, picks his head up, smiling wide. Akira gives me a fistbump before stepping back, awaiting the negotiation progress, since he already intimated the shadow into submission.

Shocked into silence for yet the second time in the last, oh, five minutes, all because the teen grabs his pipe, beating the shadow down. What happened to a peaceful discussion? Akira breathed. Maybe they all had different methods to recruit, absorb, new personas. He had always thought that talking through it might not be the most effective way, as he loses the flow of the conversation about forty-percent of the time. 

“Nicely done,” he stuttered out a few seconds too late. But, nonetheless, Ryuji smiled at him, brighter than his own lightning. Goro would lash out at this; the thought makes Akira chuckle.

“Thanks man!” He ruffled Akira’s hair. Deciding that he liked that, that casual touching that was so prevalent in Ryuji’s communication, he moved closer into his hand. Goro was very much not a toucher, but Akira thinks he, himself, could be. The times where he gets to hug people, high-five them, and sit besides them were valued over the times where he wasn’t able to do any of that. Although that might just be typical human nature and behavior. Which, he likes to think, would mean Goro could secretly enjoy when he was malleable, able to be pressed upon. That generated a warm feeling in his gut.

Morgana watched from the sidelines, awaiting any further shadows. None appeared, and it seemed the cat let his guard down, finally. Neither of the teens were much sticklers for rules, which seemed to aggravate their other teammate greatly. The rules he had unvocally put into place: always be on watch, look out for each other’s backs, and a few more that he didn’t really have any words for. Although Goro was a totally different leader type, the whole situation was oddly agreeable on Akira’s part. 

“We’re closer to the treasure now, guys!” Amazing! It makes him wonder how much they must’ve done without him. Last they had checked in, there was at least a full day of running around and battling before reaching the centre of the castle. So, Ryuji and Morgana must’ve gotten here early, and had him awaken to his persona hours before he arrived. Now he doesn’t feel too bad about getting a step ahead with Goro in skills. If they were going to try to complete a palace without notifying him, which was about half-way fine in his mind, then equal treatment was more than suitable. It was a little funny to be justifying this all in his head; he’d already gotten word from Ryuji that he wouldn’t mention his partnership with anyone else, but he hadn’t exactly talked to Morgana about it yet. When would be the best time for that? 

“Yes! I’m ready to punch that bastard in the face! Hard! He won’t even see it coming,” Ryuji exclaims, punching through the air like an under experienced boxer. He may have been comically overenthusiastic most of the time, but his energy was strangely contagious, spreading through the air like an aerosol.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, amateur. We have a lot more work to do.” Morgana sheathed his sword, with a flair of finality, and glanced towards Akira, then back at the ground. “We first need to make the coach aware of his distortions. Otherwise, the treasure won’t appear.”

“Huh? You mean he doesn’t even know this place exists, at all?” The blond barks, with a confused lilt. Akira supposes that makes sense; if they knew of their twisted heart, the average person would try to change, right? The stuff about changing hearts was cool, too, he only wishes they had known of it sooner. 

“No, obviously not,” the cat scoffs. “A palace develops because the person doesn’t want to acknowledge that part of themself, and they’re lying to themselves.” He’s always wondered, and Goro hates when he asks long questions like this, could anyone have a palace? Like, doesn’t everyone have a side they don’t like, don’t want others to see? A secret super disgusting kink, like feet, like liking little toes crawling up your chest, like liking those same little toes in your mouth, like liking feet holding your feet just as you’d hold hands. That’d be bad, and people would probably wish to cover that up, real bad. 

“Oh. Well, let’s change his heart, then.” Ryuji sounded calm, despite biting his lip and rocking back and forth on his heels. It was a difficult concept, sure, and it would take him a while to wrap his head around it.

“Are you not listening to what I’m saying?” Morgana, yet again, rolling his eyes towards the blond. “We can’t change his heart until he knows he has a palace. That’s how all of this works, right, Akira?” Oh, he was asking him. He wasn’t quite sure of the answer he should provide. Should he give an anecdote, perhaps from the last palace he and Goro destroyed? They didn’t do any crazy changing hearts shit, though.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He notices a scuff on his boots. The pink bubbles around the soles of them. “So, shall we head over?” Ah, Akira’s awfully proud of that one. Just the right amount of ambiguous that it could for sure become a catchphrase.

“Head over to where?”

Or maybe not. 

Afternoon - 4/14

Perhaps he should’ve allowed for the ghost to stay. The call - and the aftermath - had both lasted much shorter than he had anticipated, and now he was stuck in the apartment without much to do. Akira was still out from when Goro shooed him out the door, but now he was wishing him back. Very dangerous, of course. Threatening to the very existence of the concept of his own self peace. Recalling that moment just a few days ago, when Akira had cried in his arms, and the moment before that; when Goro wasn’t ready to accept that by completing Shido’s mission, he had let his partner down, no matter how minimal he made it seem. 

As he hurried out the front - he was planning on grabbing a cup of coffee from the cafe just down the block before he started up working again - he felt the door hit something in the hallway. Was Akira back? If the door had hit him, then that must mean...

He swings the door open fully, a little bit more cautiously this time, pushing his head through the space. Instead of seeing Akira, solid and smiling, there’s the old neighbour lady from next door, carrying a wilting pot of leaves. She’s frowning, hardcore, looking at the plant with a mix of sorrow and profound anger. Something he’d never before seen in her bespacted eyes. 

“Ah, good day, Mrs. How are you doing?” Pleasantries were an obvious downfall to the mostly advanced human race, but sometimes even Goro could agree that in some situations they were unavoidable. 

“Just awful, Akechi! I found this beautiful hibiscus on my step today, but someone hadn’t been taking proper care of it.” She looks absolutely flabbergasted, stunned, with her dentured jaw hanging open while waiting for his reply. Quickly, he reminded himself that she had gifted him his lovely couch.

“Oh, no, the poor thing! Is there anything we can do to save it?” Now, he didn’t know the first thing about flowers of any kind, but Akira had dabbled in a few floral hobbies in his ( Goro’s ) free time. He didn’t really find any good reason, any good will, within his heart to help her with her aching. Just because one stupid, ugly plant has died in her care, doesn’t mean that he has to throw away his lovely schedule for working at home this afternoon.

“I don’t suppose your boyfriend is home?” She chuckles before continuing, laughing at her words before spitting them out. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to have a greener thumb than I do, but that young man is splendid with the small succulents my granddaughter leaves here for me.” Oh, right. That very much put a damper on his nihilistic attitude that was going on right now. She had accidentally met the other a few times while they were testing the limits of the metaverse, what determined the length of time Akira would spend in that state afterwards. 

Boyfriend, ah, that too. He’d have to correct her on that. “He’s only my roommate, ma’am, and no, sadly, he is not here at the moment.” How was he supposed to tell this practically decaying, although kind, old woman that it was possible she’d never see him again? 

“Ah, well I suppose there’s no helping that,” she tuts. “Make sure to let him know he’s welcome over any time! You too!”

Goro thought that was pathetic. She didn’t have to pretend that she’d been planning to include him in that invitation; he could tell a good gesture from a genuine one. Right now, though, he’s worried about how many actions he’s taken, completely falsified. It’s totally out of the blue, yes, but with what Shido and Morgana were saying, maybe he really was just the absolute worst. Eh, it’s not like he’s killed people. As Akira once said, kills do not a murderer make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude i feel like im just writing words lol i rlly have to stick to a plot ( i have a vague thingy rn but idk how to implement it :()


	5. and now instead of there being NO plot, there's too much >:|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akira is from inaba send tweet

Early Morning - 8/21

The air of the empty countryside was light, but suffocating, drowning him. Akira could barely see, whether it be the fault of his morning eyes or the fog residing, covering his house. Even though the fog no longer brought controversy, destruction, fear, the tension was almost as thick as the fallen clouds. When the fog came, no one dared talk more than a whisper through the streets. On particularly bad days, everything was shut down. That would seem impossible, to someone from a big city; in the small town of Inaba, where there was no disagreement among the scared sheep, and everyone thought the same thoughts, it was easy to understand why, when the fog fell, the will of the people shut everything down.

On one such day, Akira home alone instead of at school, a shadow moved past his window. That was normal, he supposes. There were a lot of birds in Inaba. He doesn’t think anything of it, leaning back on his desk chair.

“Akira! Akira, open the door!” An excited, small voice shouts at him from the hallway, shocking him into losing his balance. Barely, by the good will of whatever god was watching over him in the moment, he caught onto the desk with the toe of his sock, and got up to open the door. It wasn’t locked, of course.

“You won’t believe what I just saw!” No, honestly, he probably wouldn’t. The girl wasn’t a huge liar, per say, she just tended to stretch the truth, like laffy daffy, every once and awhile. It was a nice change from the rest of the town, where they only told the truth when they were caught in a lie. Compared to the rest, the two of them were saints, absolute disciples. 

“Tell me, then.” He covered his amused grin with a hand and a fake cough. She’d react hardcore if she found out he was laughing at her, even in a friendly way.

“The new Phoenix Ranger Featherman R movie figures are in stock at Junes!” Her hair flew back as she bounced onto his bed, the mattress groaning under the sudden pressure. 

“Cool.” It was incredibly cool. Extraordinarily cool. The new movie had been one of the better; the tension between Red and White had been his favourite key point this time around, and the arrival of new action figures to Inaba was actually very exciting. Even Junes, the big local store, rarely got the recent goods until months later. The movie had come out only a few weeks prior ( they had gone to see it together ) and the toys were already on their shelves?

“It’s more than cool, man! This is epic!” Yes, he knew that, but as her leader through life, he had to show her that he was beyond geeking out about things like that. He was thirteen for christ’s sake, so of course he had to be mature. Grown up. There was another knock on the door, louder than her’s, originating from higher up. Either one of his parents, or his friend’s mom. 

As he goes to open it, she groans, flopping over onto her front. Akira, the expert at reading her language, realised that - somehow- she knew her mom was the one in the hallway. Oh, was she here to collect her daughter already? They barely even got to hang out.

“Kurusu? I know Futaba’s in there, come on.” She sounded stressed, definitely more stressed than usual. Being the mother to Futaba must be difficult, but from what she had been telling Akira the other day, her mom had been focused more on her work than anything else. Sometimes he felt bad for her; then she reminded him that his parents were the exact same way, if not worse. He always pretended to laugh at that, shoving her shoulder playfully. It always stung a little, but she was younger than him! She shouldn’t be able to hurt him.

“Moooooom, go awayyyy. I just got here,” Futaba, muffled by the pillow, shouts. Her mother wiggles the doorknob, pushing the door in. Akira’s house was old, a bit too old, and his door took a second to open. You had to twist it just the right way. Often he’d get in trouble for ‘locking’ his door, when in reality his parents only didn’t know the trick to it. 

“Young lady, I said now!” Wakaba sounds like she’s really getting angry now, which was unusual. Rarely did Futaba ever complain that her mother yelled at her. Of course, with stress maybe that differed. Her hair was a mess, and he could see the angriest expression that he’s ever seen on her face, on any face. With her eyebrows screwed together, the wrinkles between them were extremely visible. Her age was most assuredly less than his own mother, but it was true she showed it more. 

“Fine. Bye, Akira. See you never.” Futaba was always like this; his theory is that since she dyed her hair red, it made her that much more dramatic. If you looked at the Phoenix Ranger characters, the most over the top ones were the brightly coloured, baby-faced ones. Futaba fit the bill perfectly.

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Futaba.” 

Evening - 4/14

Akira stood, next to Goro, in front of the dirtiest gravestone he had ever seen. It was really sad actually; that’s probably why he begged his partner to come with him to clean it up. Moss had grown right over the name, dead petals from flowers long since taken from nearby graves. It was clearly neglected, out of grief or hatred, he couldn’t be sure.

“Why the hell would you take me here?” Goro crossed his arms, looking towards the ground. A funeral progression plays out on the hill behind them. “In what world are you living that makes this seem like a good idea? Do tell me.” In his defence, it seemed like a very good idea in the moment. They had both been a little high-strung over the course of the week, and Goro always seemed to fare better after doing something he should definitely not be doing in his current mental state. Such as the activity for today: cleaning Wakaba Isshiki’s gravestone.

“I just thought it’d be appreciated. You know, I was best friends with her daughter. Futaba Isshiki. She moved away, though I never found out why.” A grimace from the detective told him exactly why. “I used to come here a lot, half-hoping to see Futaba here. Never did, of course.”

“Sobbing. This is the saddest love story I’ve ever heard.” The flattest tone of voice he had ever heard plays from the emotion-hating sack standing on the same grass he is. They’re both here for the same reason, so what if one of them was dragged here against their will, the premise being to grab some late night coffee? 

“Hey! I’m being serious here! Something crazy happened.” He copies Goro’s standing position, mockingly. “I’ll make you guess until you get it right if you don’t start being nice.” There was absolutely no way that would work; he was too stubborn to-

“Fine. Apologies.” Ah, it did work. That was cute.

“Ok, ok, so I’ll tell you. I came here yesterday. Or was it the day before? Maybe the day before that?” He received an annoyed side eye. “Anyways, when I got here, there was someone else visiting her before I got here. Sojiro, from the cafe! He didn’t clean anything up, though I thought he would.” He didn’t know the man well, only from the time he had gone to drop Morgana off, before they knew of the cat’s true identity. 

“Yes, Sakura-san and Isshiki were close.” If they were close did that mean the cafe owner knew where Futaba was living now? The only possibility Akira could think of, regarding her mother’s family, was that she was living with her uncle. Not a very nice man, he remembers vaguely. His heart hums for her anxiously. Although, it wasn’t likely for Goro to help him track his friend down, especially with everything that’s happened in the last few days. Besides, how would he fit hanging out with Futaba and Kamoshida’s palace completion, hiding both from his roommate? He might not be a true detective, but surely he would instantly deduce that something about the ghost’s behavior was amiss.

For now, he decides to keep his wonder of Futaba underwraps. 

As he feels Goro pull away from his side, a voice from nearby startles the boys. It’s unfamiliar to Akira, but by the other’s reaction, this was someone that he should definitely not be letting catch him at a cemetery with no plots under his family name.

“Akechi. My sister mentioned she’s been working with you more lately.” She had short brown hair, braided neatly at the top of her scalp. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Her eyes, almost identical to Goro's, were red, bold, and full of undirected anger. Where there was at least a bit of heartfelt emotion in the older Niijima’s eyes, this sister had none to show to Goro.

“Niijima. Are you here to visit your father? I wasn’t aware he was buried; he always seemed the environmentalist type, to get cremated.” Akira gapes at that. How could he just say that? Despite her initial cold behavior, she seemed like an honest and kind person, given anyone could get past her exterior. 

“Goro, you better apologise to her! You can’t just say whatever you want,” Akira snaps, wanting to push the detective’s head down to show he was serious. Even if he tolerated it, barely, that didn’t mean he could just be mean to whoever he wanted!

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Niijima frowned, the question directed towards the brunette. Who was she talking about? It wasn’t possible she could see him, right?

“Who’s who?” Goro sounded just as confused as Akira was, and no one was faulting him. If Niijima really could see him, did that mean she had access to the metaverse, a persona? Or did it mean something else entirely? Perhaps his time in Kamoshida’s heart castle has proven to affect his state in more ways than had first appeared. He only wondered what made his palace so different from the last.

“I’m Niijima Makoto, pleasure to meet you,” she spoke, effectively ignoring the pointed question. As she held her hand out in front of Akira, waiting for a handshake not guaranteed to come, Goro tried again.

“Niijima-”

“I’m Akira! Hi!” He avoids meeting any other eyes besides Makoto’s. They seem different, deeper, than when she was watching Goro scruntiningly. He also ignores the heel grinding into his toe; both as a check to make sure he knew what the hell he was doing and to prove to themselves that he was in a state to be seen right now. It seems he was. “I’m Goro’s friend, it makes sense he’s never mentioned me, though.”

Now she was going to think the absolute worst! Although, it could be said that whatever scenario she was cooking up her head was miles better than the real thing, way off. Just thinking in the perspective of someone new makes him falter for a second. There was no way they could explain this, or even lie about it, when they hadn’t had a spare minute to prepare, could they?

“Goro doesn’t seem to mention anything or anyone, outside of his own work. You seem younger, if I may be blunt. Do you attend a school in the area?” The way her mind worked jolted him out of any stupor he had been caught in. No, he didn’t attend any schools in the area, but would that sound suspicious?

“Actually,” Goro opened his mouth, finally finding an opening to spew his bullshit. “Akira here is a friend from the country. He has not yet enrolled in any school, though he’s interested in Shujin.” One moment he goes from saying, what seems to be, the rudest things he can think of off the top of his head -that would deeply wound his target, but also with enough of a subtle air for some plausible deniability if they happened to call him out for it- and the next he spent flattering the to the best extent of his personable abilities. 

“Well, if you ever become more than interested, I’d be happy to assist. I’m the student body representative president, if you hadn’t heard.” Makoto adjusts her uneven footing, squinting at them through the sun. Even then, she seems the picture of perfectly conned confidence; further, she appears the most proudest of that statement. Akira never really paid attention to the school politics in Inaba, but he knew that was a somewhat sought-after position, amongst the ones in his classes actually focused on doing good. 

“Thank you! Makoto, if I may-”

“Thank you. We’ll keep that in mind, for we must be going now.” Goro tugged the other way, leaving Makoto standing oddly one her own, staring after the pair. Akira wanted to sock him very much right now, and the funny part was that he could. For now, he settled with giving his offender the meanest look he could conjure up through his confused, hazed mind. 

Morning - 4/15

After they had left the cemetery yesterday, Goro wanted to make sure Akira was in fact visible to everyone else. Akira was exhausted though, as he usually is after a state change. They went back to the apartments first, and said goodnight to the neighbour. She seemed excited to finally see Goro’s ‘boyfriend’ back. By then it was a little too late to do much of anything else, and the two agreed to continue the next day. Today, Goro supposes, was that day.

“Makoto can see me, then probably everyone can, probably.” Akira didn’t know how anything worked, did he? He was lucky to not get paired with another idiot, such as that Sakamoto. Oh, right, they still had to take care of him. Life was just so busy at times. 

“Speak properly, for the love of god.” He rolled his eyes. Being responsible for such an idiot could be such a hassle; a waste of his talents. “Besides, I don’t think we have the room to risk it. If it turns out Niijima is the only human to see you besides those in the metaverse,” he says with scorn. “Then perhaps we should be taking a close eye to her. Enrolling you properly in Shujin Academy may not be that short of a brilliant idea.” He also wouldn’t put it past Shido to target the principal of the school, Kobayakawa. He’s used his connection with Shido to gain his notoriety, and as the election grows closer and closer, it’s likely Shido will be taking out anyone who could possibly turn against him.

“But I don’t wanna go to school!” He threw his arms up in the air, his finger slamming into the kitchen wall. It didn’t go through. “I thought being dead was an escape from work, damn it.” He was such a child, it was difficult to bear an argument with him. Especially when he brought up being dead. It makes little sense, ethos wise. Goro insists that even if Akira was technically not alive, right now it didn’t seem that way. 

“We have no idea how long it’ll last this time, or why it even occurred. We have to utilise this opportunity the most we can.” To him, that meant using it to spy on his real life enemy. If that included his colleagues younger sister, so be it. The pattern had broken. They were no longer sure the cause of his status, and they may never. What matters now is that they have an opening: have Akira enroll in Shujin, right under their noses.

“Makoto seems really nice! What do you have against nice people?” He had no idea what Akira was going on about now. There were no nice people in Tokyo. Allies were a thing of fantasy, only to be things to use in reality. Confidants were only for people to use, to their own benefit. Every man for themselves, Goro doesn’t let himself think otherwise. 

“She’s a threat, Akira. We must determine if there’s any possibility she has a role in the metaverse, or even in the incident occurring with you at the moment.” Everything he said was true, even as he can’t maintain eye contact. “Additionally, I have nothing against nice people, if they truly were to exist.”

“How did you even think that up? There is literally no way Makoto could know about anything like that. And how would she even do this?” He gestures to his body, very much not looking dead or transparent. It was apparent that Niijima couldn’t do something like that if she was a normal person; Goro knew better than to assume everyone was. 

Complaining was doing Akira no good; he couldn’t reason with him like this. Should he just start getting ready for work? Sure, he didn’t have to go in today, but they wouldn’t turn him away at the door for coming in for extra hours. Maybe they would. Perhaps Shido had a mission lined up for him; that would be the perfect change of pace. Go in without Akira, fight without Akira, win without him; that would be the ideal.

“Listen, Goro, I think I have an idea to what-” There’s a knock at the door now, loud and insistent. 

“Hey! We’ve got a problem!” The offender calls from the hallway. Voice booming, cracking at the same time. 

“Coming!” Akira answers, almost tripping on his haste to let them in. Goro, now, remembers just why that voice was mildly familiar, and pinches the bridge of his nose. This couldn’t be good. First of all, how the hell did that boy know where he lived? He soon realised the answer to that: Morgana. Morgana had come to their apartment, scrutinizing their technique right after meeting them. 

The light from the hallway was yellow, yellow as Sakamoto’s terribly bleached hair. He was the epitome of what Goro found wrong with young people: dyed, unruly hair, zero fashion sense - like, who would wear a yellow printed tee under a plaid school blazer? - and no manners, whatsoever. Sakamoto was loud, and loud was Sakamoto.  
“What’s going on?” He asks, annoyance evident, leaking from his voice. It was awful enough he had the misfortune of ever meeting the two of them; he especially did not want them making house calls without telling him first.

“We might’ve accidentally let someone else into the metaverse.” What? Oh, this was impossible. If they had come asking for help, he would be declining. Absolutely not. “She was following us, I guess, and when I got out the Navi, she got sucked in with us!” Buffoons. How many years has he been doing this? Way longer than they have, for sure, and he has not once ‘accidentally let someone into the metaverse. Especially not some girl.

“Where is she? If you guys left without her, she could be in danger!” Akira flung his arms above his head, staring the pair down. “Goro, please? We have to go help!” 

Did they really, though? That girl had gotten herself in this predicament, even if she had only been able to because of the idiots’ recklessness. In his mind, there was no point. Besides, why were they trying to access the same palace as before? Now, though, he realised he had no reason to suspect Akira anymore, if he ever did. They may have the combined IQ of a child koala, but even they would know better than to enter without their strongest utility. Honestly, despite Goro being much stronger than any other metaverse in this room, even he occasionally hesitated before entering without Akira. He could admit, albeit reluctantly, that the metaverse and Mementos was dangerous by yourself. Not to mention some non-persona wielder. She’d be eaten alive. Was he really okay with that happening, the strain on his already cracking conscience? 

“Sure. Why not?” He’d been looking to fight for a while now anyways. A new setting wasn’t always bad, just making sure to look past the familiar way in which Sakamoto and Akira acted. Fist bumps, ear pulls - actions that pointed towards a strong bond. However, considering how friendly the ghost was with mere strangers, he was sure the friendliness meant close to nothing serious.

Noon - 4/15

The castle was much more detailed than Goro remembered. Shadows weaker than bed bugs crawled around the regal, yet god ugly, interior. Designs of absolutely no class decorated the area: pink busts of breasts, heavy portraits depicting a rather unattractive fella, and, in his opinion, the worst part of it all, Sakamoto’s metaverse attire. The ridges down his back seemed to represent the dents in the blond’s own brain. At least his he was able to fight in; the other’s fit a toddler’s halloween party much more than the mature atmosphere of the metaverse. Not that Kamoshida was mature in any way, it’s just the expression on Akira’s face while they pass by the models of teenaged bodies would be enough to give a movie with this presence a much higher parental rating.

Akira wasn’t the same as he was when it was just them in the metaverse. Instead of quips and drawn out smirks, he was all nods and unfinished sentences. Sakamoto was constantly talking over everyone else in the group; sooner or later Akira was going to give up, it seemed, to let the blond lead the conversation entirely. Although that was rather unlike the ghost, with their similar personalities and energetic tendencies, it made since that interacting between them was tougher than between Akira and Goro. Complete opposites, they sometimes appeared. In taste and style and rationals. 

“What’s her name?” Goro asks, the smell of blood infiltrating the castle. “What does she look like? Any idea the way she went? How do you idiots expect us to be able to help if you don’t even know where to start looking?” Up until now, they had been wandering around the entrance, pulling on locked doors, hiding underneath tables - those shadows must be reliably oblivious because how the hell did they not see any of them? - yet they had no sense of direction; no idea where they were headed. He couldn’t imagine that they hadn’t entered the palace since the first time they had accidentally accessed it. Akira had filled him in on the details while he was dragging him back to the apartment.

“Ann. She’s, uh, really pretty. Foreign, like blonde, really pretty, uh.” Sakamoto was of little to no help, it seemed. Morgana only shrugged as an answer, and Akira listened as the blond described the girl with alarming horniness. 

Goro rolls his eyes. “Ok, that’s enough. Akira, left or right?” He turns from the other, staring at the ghost. His grey eyes widen at being asked their next move. It wasn’t a secret that the group didn’t exactly like the detective, or trust him all that much. That being said, they did listen to, respect, believe in Akira, through the short time they’d known each other. 

“Well, I’m sensing movement from the left, a lot of it, but…” he was doubting himself, of course When was the last time he was asked his opinion in the metaverse? There was never really a point, to be fair, he knew he could trust his own instincts. At his best, Akira was a superb navigator, and at his worst he was the biggest nuisance Goro could stomach. But, still, his partner being unsure, when he’s directly putting him in charge, was mildly infuriating. Did he not believe in the detective’s judgement? 

“Following you, Joker!” Morgana called, swinging his short arms by his sides in a mock boy scout fashion. 

“Joker?” Akira and Goro ask, equally as bewildered, at the same time. Not only was there no one by the name of ‘Joker’ in the vicinity, there was also a weird gleam in both the cat and Sakamoto’s eyes at their shock.

“Yeah! We decided everyone should have code names in the metaverse; who knows what calling out someone’s actual name could do in cognition?” Sakamoto said, like a cheer, like reciting a lesson from memory. Morgana must’ve really drilled the ‘importance of code names’ into him. When, in fact, they had found absolutely no signs pointing to any effect either of their real names had on the metaverse, or themselves. Where was he getting this? Nothing pointed to that being the case. And, Joker? Calling someone a code name before even telling them that a) they switched to using them, and b) that that was now being used to refer to him. 

“Oh, ok! I like it! What’s everyone else's?” Of course the dog instantly jumped at the thought, wagging his tail. When it came to him, he would elect to decline.

“The amateur is Skull, because of his mask. I’m Mona, because...not quite sure of the reasoning behind that one. You’re Joker, you know that, and your friend is Butthead, courtesy of Skull, if you were curious!”

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Mona!” Idiots. Simpletons. 

“Well if you didn’t want me to announce it, then why’d you look so proud when you suggested it?” The cat appears literally oblivious. If it were anyone else, Goro would think they were acting like that on purpose, but he knew better. 

“No, I do not require one. Call me Akechi, or nothing at all.” Ultimatum, he liked it. It didn’t matter to him whether or not everyone else went by nicknames, even if it was cringy as fuck. Joker was just weird, the name didn’t exactly correlate to Akira personally whatsoever. Mona was just a shorter version of Morgana, and Skull only refers to the tacky mask placed onto his face. Goro’s own covering was much different from the other’s, he realises now; where their outfits hang off their frames, bulky fabric and colourful material, his was skin tight, perhaps even tighter than his own skin, dark blues and blacks, and his mask covered much of his head, not just his eyes. From the first time he felt the force of his original persona, Loki, he only assumed that the costume was just the thing he found easiest to fight in. Akira’s look was more agreeable than the rest, he decides, with so many layers it earned less points than his, but it looked cool and that’s really what mattered in the long run.

Their soles swallowed the pink, kicked up by Joker’s steps. Elected as leader vicariously, he appeared to be taking it alarmingly serious. Even if it was just for this trip, to save this stupid child sneaking into places she shouldn’t, the way he slipped into the position seamlessly was just a bit jaw-dropping. Sakamoto and Morgana seemed unaffected, though, so maybe it was just Akechi’s perspective opinion.

Noon - 4/15

Joker had to be the coolest code name Akira had ever heard. It was surprising they hadn’t thought of that earlier! Now that he put a finger on it, yelling real names in the metaverse could’ve been altering the target cognition, or public’s cognition in Mementos, in hidden ways. Ways that they couldn’t have observed, couldn’t have even pictured.

The other’s had cool ones too; he only wished Goro hadn’t been such a bad sport about it. Sure, the concept was new, but… Working in a group could be tough, too. Even Akira has been having a little issue getting used to the multiple different fighting styles. Going from having one partner, where it literally felt like the other could read his thoughts in battle, to having to plan around two additional people’s unexpected attacks. Sometimes, when specified before entering a formation, Morgana will tell Akira to actually command the group. Yelling out spells, physical moves, when to heal a certain teammate. For sure, he was not prepared for it, but it wasn’t all too bad. The pressure was awful in the moment, definitely, but it hadn’t turned out too badly afterwards yet.

Like now, they were up against three Kelpies, which were actually nothing, no trouble. They had Ryuji’s persona, Captain Kidd, and he was sure someone probably picked up something with a wind wall, to cover his weakness. That was the biggest benefit to fighting in a bigger group, he thinks, when everyone can look after everyone else. When it’s just him and Goro, the case is usually to fend for yourself. If Akira needed a weakness covered, it was up to him to make sure he had a persona to do the job. Not sure how a mindset like that would survive in a true team.

It was Morgana’s turn now, after Ryuji’s. He missed, so it was up to the cat to make the first blow. “Morgana! Garu!” He throws a well-packed breeze, with the same persona he used for every single fight. How did they not get bored? He knew Goro had his reasons, trauma-filled and angsty, but from what he’d seen from the others, they had no underlying, deep secret as to why they never switched personas. Akira had used a few from battle to battle, however uncomfortable it made him when gaped at the new one. It’s not like Zorro or Captain Kidd was stronger than any of his! And he didn’t even have a true persona like they did. Or even two, like Goro did. 

“Wait! Spare me?” The left-most Kelpie cried, baring his neck in defeat. Morgana swung his sword back into the pouch on his back, while Ryuji took a bounce away. 

Looking at the detective, mostly for guidance but also as a silent, inside inquiry about the differences between them and the new two. Did they feel guilty to take the shadow as theirs when someone else could use it? It just always felt like they treated him as if he didn’t carry the team. Not that he did! Akira didn’t think that at all, whatsoever. There’s just something mildly confusing about continuously refusing stronger personas when the one they currently equip has hardly any advantage over the enemy.

Instead of taking the Kelpie this time, again - he already has about thirteen on him right now, including a Kelpie - he turns to the opposite side, ready to ask. It was common courtesy, right? Even if he knew they were going to refuse, it was nice to ask, he had convinced himself. One of these times they’d spot one that they absolutely needed in their personal headspace. As he swallows a sigh and makes eye contact with Morgana, he hears the Kelpie’s low voice protesting in the background. Of course.

“How do I know you will treat me right, human?” They always asked such tough questions, but Goro was not a patient man.

“I’m not blowing your head off right now, am I?” He smirks slightly, and Akira watches him glance out at him from the corner of his eye. “I think that’s proof enough.” You had to be nice to shadows, or else they wouldn’t be convinced enough by your character to help you, become you. Goro...wasn’t the best at that part of negotiation, but if the shadow was best persuaded by intimidation, he was on it like brown sugar on rice. 

“Correct, you are. But what about your friend here?” The shadow points a green nose in Akira’s direction. This was how the discussions usually ended up; Goro would try his hardest, albeit with not much applied effort, to convince the shadow that he was a good guy. More often than not, the shadow took one pointed look at him, then Akira, and decided they’d rather work with the ghost. To avoid offending the detective further, typically they’d continue attacking the shadow, as if they never entered a negotiation in the first place. 

Anger, or perhaps jealousy, laced his voice as he spit at the floating horse. “What about him?” It was obvious, wasn’t it? Akira seemed friendlier, and the personas he was holding weren’t as terrifying, benevolent. Goro’s inner mind screamed violent, from what the ghost could gather from the times he watched the detective debate whether to use Robin Hood or Loki. The differences between the two characters was night and day.

“Does he not want I?” Aw, now he was sad. A dejected shadow, while undeniably sort of a threat, was still from the human soul, still felt the pain of emotions. Akira was dead and still felt emotions, so he liked to think anything was possible, especially in the metaverse. If a rotten dude like Kamoshida could be a king and have a castle in this world, then shadows could be hurt by cruel words.

Should he initiate the all out attack, with Goro? “No! It’s not that, it’s just that my friend would really like to work with you! I wouldn’t want to be rude.” Would either of them honestly use a Kelpie? Maybe to fuse an Andras or a Koppa Tengu, just to be nice. That sounded like a nice thing to do, coming from Akira, whose main interactions are with a man that doesn’t believe in niceties. 

“If you insist, me will join your lover and-” The kelpie was cut off by Goro’s scream, as he ran forward with his saber held high above his head. Ryuji lets out a loud gasp of surprise, while Morgana looks a reflex away from needing to be held back. Akira slams his boot down to keep himself from kicking his leg out, effectively tripping the detective. ( It was unlikely that the trick would connect, though, since Goro would most assuredly leap over it like the dancer he is. ) With just one clean slice, the horse falls into a pile of black dust, swept away with a wave of Goro’s cape. He didn’t look especially proud, smug, just ‘done.’ 

“Shall we carry on?”

The team nods, more distance than necessary place between them and the detective. Akira, instead, glares at the caped back. Why the hell did his stupid phrase work, when his didn’t?

Noon - 4/15

Even with the imbeciles trailing behind Goro, it didn’t take long before they heard distinctly feminine wail from an area nearby. Past a safe room they hadn’t accessed yet, and a hallway full of shiny armour, empty, luckily, there was a pair of ceiling-to-floor wooden doors. Sakamoto put his ear up to the door, bracing onto it with his palms.

“Yep, sounds like Takamaki is in here!” Before anyone could quiet him down, the doors swung open, presumably from his weight, revealing a room full of shadows and an ugly king. The girl, supposedly Takamaki Ann, was strapped to what appeared to be some sort of torture device. Served her right, he thought, sneaking into the metaverse, following people who you should very much not follow. Seeing how Sakamoto’s description - however vague, yet excruciatingly detailed in ways that did not matter in the slightest - matched up to the real person, threw his short-lived theory of a potential admirer. There was close to zero chance of the boy ever having any sort of female infatuated with him, much less a chance of having some blonde foreigner stalking him hoping to confess. He never really thought the idea to life, though, just a little hypothesis to pass the time it took to get here. Time he could’ve spent doing actual work wasted, all because a couple of fools decided to throw caution out the window. 

“No, wait, please, Kamoshida, I have no idea what you’re talking about, please let me go!” She, Takamaki, continued to strain against her restraints, ignoring the coach’s chuckles. Her pleas weren’t getting through to him, and as the others moved further into the hall, calling out for the ‘king’ to ‘throw hands with someone his own size.’ He doesn’t have to look over to know that a certain bleached head is shouting into the air, falling flat on the offender’s ears. There was absolutely no way he thought, had any sort of sense of pragmatism, that any of that would work. From what he knows of rotten persons, which was much, accusing words did little than angering the man.

“Guards, throw those rats out.” Kamoshida, in a regal - yet tasteless - cloak and pink panties, spins back towards Takamaki with the most unsightly expression upon his ugly muzzle. 

Goro looks to Akira, questioningly. Is this what they came to do? They found the girl, along with the palace leader, so what now? If it was entirely up to him - well, if it were, they wouldn’t even be here - they’d swiftly, easily, defeat the barely-there threat, and get the girl out. He’d be more inclined to leave her, as punishment perhaps, but he supposes being strapped to a board by a hideous, hairy man was punishment enough. 

The other meets his gaze, wide yet confident, glowing and ablaze. He had a plan, of course. Would it work? Debatable. It was better than Goro’s original plan: leave the girl, leave the castle, and go do his work as he should be doing as a responsible human being. His plan B, though, was killing the both of them, only after Kamoshida trounced the idiotic obstacles, and leaving with Akira. All things considered, he was willing to hear through what the ghost had to say.

“Ryuji, do you have any sort of ice-based persona? I have a feeling we’re going up against a few fire-based shadows.” Akira jumps at the opportunity to lead. Finally, a chance to see exactly what the other two were capable of, for when he moves in to strike, of course. Goro’s not sure whether this was a defense mechanism or a simple personal preference, but he had yet to see either the monster cat or Sakamoto use any other persona besides their weak starters.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” a formality, yet again. He’d ask even if they screamed at him not to. “Why is it that you stick to your base inner persona? Surely you have more powerful ones in your arsenal?” They had to have an answer to the questions. 

The boy looked alarmed, half confused and half offended. It was too much to hold in a laugh. “I literally have no idea what you’re going on about, dude. Joker here was asking the same things last time we came. Honest to god, I don’t know of any other magical beings living inside my soul or whatnot.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, as he looks down to Morgana. 

That’s...not what he was expecting. Akira seems to share his sentiments, scrunching his eyebrows together in comical frustration. So, it seemed, they didn’t utilise only a single skill set because they wanted to, it was more due to the fact that it was all they could do. As always, Goro thinks they’re lying. They have to be, right? Nevertheless, they would have to somehow fit their feeble, puny style in with Akira’s plan. The sooner he got this over with, hitting three birds with one stone, defeat Kamoshida and Sakamoto and Morgana all at the same time. Saving Takamaki fell somewhere into those guidelines, presumably. 

“Oh, okay. I think I have a Jack Frost…” he trails off, and it’s obvious he’s worried about his preparation falling through. As much as Goro doubts the success rate in this moment, he’s much less worried about failure. 

There’s a few nods in the group, as they each grab their blades. Kamoshida’s lackeys groan closer, dragging large axes along the floor. He wasn’t quite sure why they were so incredibly intimidated by this battle, considering how low-levelled the shadows roaming the corridors. He rolls his shoulder. 

They jump together, on instinct. “Show me your true form!” 

It’s much more powerful in unison, the shadows snapping their backs with a burst of black smoke. They’re only two knights, or something similar, with golden wings and stern eyes. As suspected, they’re only the slightest bit stronger than the common enemies, with the usual skill set and attack pattern, from what he can observe from his inclination. The extras pop into place besides Goro and Akira, trembling, twitching with - was it anticipation? Something angstier? Attacks fly left and right, rarely on target but always setting off mini firework displays behind his eyes. 

A spark lands in Akira’s hair, reflected off the Heavenly Punisher’s metallic breast plate. It’s quickly put out with a little steam, generated from the Jack Frost’s Mabufu, spelled outwards in retaliation. The cavalryman is conquered; someone shot a lightning flash, throwing the shadow off his horse, dissolving into the pink floor. Kamoshida, staring in rage from the safety of the other side of the room. Goro swallows a laugh, as he pinches his wrist to command Loki not to use the ability he’s been dying to use since they entered the metaverse. Since no one else was able to use it, it didn’t seem all that wise to disclose the full nature of his power in front of enemies, even if he did plan to be gone with them soon enough.

“You fools! Kill them!” Kamoshida was lessening the distance between him and the fight, his skin boiling to an unhealthy shade of red, fists enlarging. Shifting, Goro’s eyes narrow to the massive goblet in the back of the room. If he was not mistaken, which he rarely ever was to be honest, there were flailing limbs, waving over the brim of the cup. Were those cognitive beings, or other people that snuck into the palace and got stuck?

Akira, from the corner of his eye, sends an Eiga toward the Archangel, after swapping Jack Frost for an Anubis. The shadow was gone, just like that, and in its path lie the bigger boss. 

Afternoon - 4/15

Kamoshida must’ve been lonely, watching the action from the sidelines like that, because he jumped right in as soon as there was an opening. With no other enemies, the team was able to focus all of their synergy towards the demon. This one was especially ugly, he grimaces; he had a long, white tongue that instantly pried through teeth to swipe at the ground below their feet. Morgana got knocked to the floor, head spinning.

From the expression on Goro’s face, the fight was going to be super easy for them. Of course, they’d have to keep a certain ‘manner of dignity’ about themselves, since Ann, the foriegn girl, was still tied up, not too far from their battle. 

“I won’t let anyone take my crown! I am the king!” Crown? Ah, that’s right! Ryuji and Morgana had worked over the last twenty-four hours to make sure that the bastard was perfectly aware that they were going to tear him down. Using the method glossed over by the cat, they set up a calling card, detailing exactly what they were going to do to him. Although he wishes he could’ve been there to see the look on Kamoshida’s face when he first read the message, he thinks the time he’s spent with Goro recently was important, and meant a lot to the both of them. 

“Not for much longer,” Ryuji shouts, spit flying into the tense air between them and their opponent. “We’re going to destroy you!” Yes! Now that’s the energy he loves to see!

Goro shakes his head, though, and Akira frowns. Right, they would have to sort this mess out sooner rather than later, wouldn’t they? That made him a little sad; it’d all be better if they could all just coexist. Maybe he’d be able to convince the detective that being in a team was cool, that having friends was cool. He’d already somewhat managed to talk him into cleaning Isshiki’s grave, hadn’t he?

Kamoshida chuckles darkly at this, swirling a finger along the rim of the goblet. Toes and fingers and jaws met his disgusting nails, and low voices gurgled from deep within his voice. A flash of some charge, energy enhancer, the demon was surrounded by an intoxicating glow. Even Akira could feel the rush of power pushing through the atmosphere. This fight might be a little tougher than he had first anticipated. Which, obviously, was intended. 

“Bow to me!” He casts a fear ailment into the group, and Akira feels Goro’s grip on his cloak. He’s chattering, trembling, hanging heavy on his shoulder.

Goro sucked in a dry sob. “Please don’t let him get me. I don’t want him to kill me.” And somehow he knows he’s not talking about here, in the present anymore. There’d be no way to ever make the detective afraid of something that he would normally scoff at. But, Akira knew him just well enough that he could fill in the blanks. His heart throbs.  
Luckily, no one else was hit with the status change, still standing on their own and fighting with their strongest arm first. Ryuji was swinging his pipe while Morgana sent a small tornado towards the goblet. They’d seen Kamoshida taking a few gulps of the bodies swimming around in the glass, and quickly realised the vore was healing him. By targeting his support, it’d be easier to take him down later. What he really wanted to focus on right now, though, was the way Goro was still hyperventilating into his palms; he was no longer holding onto Akira, at least, but he was in no position to fight at all. The others didn’t seem to judge, continuing their simple technique.

There’s a whip flying past Akira’s ear, now, and he blinks out of the Eida-Lunge-Bufu routine he’s slept into. At first, he believes the whip to be another device of Kamoshida’s destruction, or perhaps a new enemy spawned due to the need in the cognition. His health was low, lowering by the minute, and he truly knew they would get out of here soon. Defeat Kamoshida, grab the treasure, and get the girl.

Speaking of the girl, the other end of the whip was held in an unrecognizable hand. Blood and bruises are streaked down the wrists; Akira’s eyes widened. Takamaki? Had a whip? Where did she get one? Wherever she did come to acquire the weapon, he was sure it didn’t really matter, because it was cool as - woah. Matching the whip was a red half-face mask and a spandex catsuit. 

Before he could let himself get anymore distracted ( because, woah ) Goro suddenly straightens up from the hunched position he had been bent at, tears off his mask, and calls for Robin Hood. With the persona guarding him from any further attacks, he’s in the clear to throw an arrow attack directly to Kamoshida. The goblet took some of the hit as well, the glass breaking into big chunks. 

The demon falls to the floor, withering in pain, before turning back to the original form of the coach. His black hair is matted to his forehead, eyes shaking in their sockets as he looks back and forth between Ryuji and Goro. Just as quickly as the detective’s attack, the man drops his head to the ground, eyebrows touching the space the goblet once was, pleading for forgiveness. When Akira is about to step up, half as a precaution against Goro following old habits and half as an old habit himself, someone steps in between him and Kamoshida on the floor.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness, not right now.” Blonde pigtails tickle his nose. It’s Takamaki, with one hand on her hip and the other holding the crown. “Figure your sins out yourself.” And just like that, Kamoshida is bawling again, seemingly over his confused state. 

Akira looks over to Ryuji and Morgana, who are silently watching from behind. From the look on the blond’s face, she definitely did not always act like this in the real world. Morgana wipes some drool from his chin. He turns to Goro, after Takamaki has spun around to face them, after Kamoshida has disappeared into his cognition, and bites his cheek.

He squints a moment, taking in the detective’s clothing. It was the same he always wore, but covered in the dirt and blood from the battle. There was a time and a place for everything, yet he wasn’t sure there would ever be a proper moment to bring it up. After the jokes the other two were spewing, Akira had instantly decided he was going to take the suggestion seriously. Goro was, in fact, the only one without a codename, if they didn’t consider Takamaki already part of the team. 

“How’s Crow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was literally so hard and its also the longest of all the chapters so far
> 
> one day ill reread this and edit it so it ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE but whatevs  
> i feel like ( no matter how awful this is ) this fic might be the first thing i ever finish and im lowkey proud of it   
>  but fsfs the end was rushed cause im insecure about writing fight scenes so honestly i was just trying to get it over w   
> okok how do yall feel bout a gun kink! akira oneshot thingy?? its like 1/4 written and ill prolly post it sometime this week or next


	6. shiho is underrated fr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suicide ideation
> 
> i think? i thought to mention that

Morning - 4/20

Akira, with an umbrella to keep off the pounding rain, walks up to the gate cautiously. He can’t believe Goro enrolled him in a school behind his back. Nothing about that seemed fair whatsoever, no matter how you looked at it. His shield droops a little, and a fat droplet hits the back of his neck, rolling right down his uniform turtleneck.

“Don’t be an embarrassment, straighten up,” there’s Goro behind him, scoldingly lifting the back of the umbrella to cover even his bag. Akira jumps, spinning around. He said he’d have to do this alone, but here he is. And wearing the Shujin uniform? God, he should’ve known the detective was going to pull something like this. Sending him to school all on his own, reminding him of all the rigid rules of society, and then suddenly appearing out of nowhere, to go to the exact same place he did. It just didn’t seem all that efficient. 

Even still, after being permeable for about a week, Akira wasn’t exactly used to being seen. He felt kind of… naked, especially in a plaid pair of pants, just like everyone else was wearing. Maybe that was normal, maybe all the students felt naked. That could be why Kamoshida had been so drawn to them. Eh, maybe he shouldn’t say that aloud. Goro glances at him, his lip turned up.

“Akira, don’t tell me you skipped breakfast.” How’d he know? He had been rushed out this morning, by a certain prince detective, while also forgetting that he’d have to eat in this state. Hunger pains strike him below his ribs; a person, including those through death, could never forget a sensation like starvation. He laughs it off.

Hunger brought you exhaustion, exhaustion brought you stupidity. “I forgot.” Goro wasn’t going to trust him with anything now, because the detective never forgot. Or, he usually forgot that he had forgotten about something. Which works well on its own, except when he’s judging Akira by his own personal standards. Not everyone can be some emotionless, empty statue.

They walk up the steps finally, mindful of the small puddles dripping onto the concrete. Other students pass, with bulging school bags and sour expressions. A rainy weekday morning was to do that to young people. He looks over to Goro, who’s staring down at his phone, looking at something of their enrollment paperwork. Surely he’d agree, that mornings really had to be the worst. 

His eyes lift from the screen, lips pierced in contemplation. What exactly he was contemplating couldn’t be deduced, with his face glossy and still. They’re still moving their feet, inside the building now, swerving past bodies of students, passing teachers just standing and watching in the middle of the hallways. Out of the blue, Goro stops, causing a chatty girl behind him to hit his bag. With a roll of her eyes, she pushes between them.

“Which one do you want?” He points to the stand with the hand carrying his wallet, phone now in his pocket. Which one did he want? The stand has an assortment of breakfast pastries, with meat, custard, and fruits. None of them look too entirely appealing, but the smell was godly, filling his senses. Everything was so potent - even the water he drank the night before tasted like crystals, and his vision, his vision. The sky was blue again, instead of the murky purple-ish he had gotten used to in the half - way - to - mementos world. He didn’t totally hate it though, especially considering the bold colour of Goro’s eyes had brightened with his newfound, extreme senses. 

There was a sausage one on the second row, though, that seemed to be calling his name. “Sausage one is good.” His mouth is practically salivating, regardless of his previous sentiment on the buns. He really was starving, and the one he picked really did smell good. 

Goro orders quickly, as a bell rings throughout the hallways. As Akira opens his mouth to thank him for paying, for thinking of him, the detective shoves the bun into his hands, turning on his heel. He rushes to follow him to the office. Since they had already enrolled, the only thing required of them today was to check in with the student president, Niijima Makoto, and then head to their respective class, hopefully not separate. 

There’s less students in the way now, a few stragglers here and there, couples up against the countless drink machines, confused first years lingering in the front of the school, and the occasional staff member wrangling the ones they managed to find up. Akira starts slowing down a little too much at the sight of a classroom door, held ajar with the professor’s foot, open to tables filled with teens. They’re rowdy, pushing at each other in their chairs, bent at the waist laughing over what was probably some stupid joke. 

Goro has to tug on his sleeve for a moment to get him walking again. His eyes stay on the scene, though, taking it all in. Suddenly, the situation hits him, harder than the first time. School work, peers, extracurriculars - he hadn’t quite realised what this mission entailed before this moment. Working so closely with people his age, that might not have the mandatory complexes - superiority or inferiority, or perhaps both - needed to master the metaverse like they did. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that there was any student at this school that had even heard of the meta-cognitive world. But even still, the fact that he was going to be masquerading as just another ordinary kid, when he hadn’t fit that description since months before now, scared him. Just the sight of mass amounts of them had him halting in his tracks, holding his breath in fear of ruining the picture. If all it took was being in the vicinity, being in a school setting, to make him feel this way, he wasn’t sure they would be able to get any sort of work done. 

“Thank you,” he nods, realising he hadn’t shown much appreciation for the food yet. Goro usually hated that kind of stuff; nobody was gracious of their own volition. It goes hand in hand with his ‘nobody’s nice’ theory, which he still thinks is dead wrong. There’s no way anyone who lives in a society could actually think that was true.

Of course, he’s met with an eye roll. “Please shut up, Akira.” 

He quickly complies. They’re moving up the stairs now, and he only stumbles on a step once or twice, unused to the activity. The stairs are cool, though, because they lead the boys from the first floor to the second in very little time at all. There, on the second floor, is the faculty office, the student council room, second - year classes, and the library. Other rooms weren’t as important.

“What’s the plan?” Akira, spontaneously and wildly, wonders. Were they going to go by fake names? That made him giddy - should he start thinking of names now? He hadn’t been there when Goro was filling out their enrollment information, but it definitely wouldn’t be out of character for the detective to neglect to mention important points of their infiltration. Maybe he thought the surprise would be spoiled, that the younger boy couldn’t be trusted with such a salient detail. 

Goro’s hand on the doorknob falters. “You’ve no need to know - follow what I say, and don’t show any signs of suspicion.” The door creaks as he slides it open, bringing about a round of eyes searching for theirs. Instantly, he wants to step out. It’s been a while since he’s had so many people’s attention on him. A woman nearest the door glances down at his fidgeting hands; to most others he appears in perfect condition, as if his death never occurred. It’s an awful thing surely, yet he doesn’t see it that way. He wouldn’t like to worry strangers - the casual attention was awkward enough.

Akira could admit, honestly, that he was an extremely social person. After his death, however, he had gotten used to being alone, especially immediately after he died, locked into mementos by design for weeks. When Goro had been sent to collect his corpse, as his murderer said, he had quickly realised that his clean-up task wasn’t actually dead. The only, sole, fix to that which the detective considered was to keep the dead hidden away. How Shido would’ve reacted to a cover - up, for his cover - up. 

“Are you two the transfer students?” A teacher from the back, tall and built asked with a simple rudeness in his voice. His eyes are surrounded by red, bags as swollen and deep as the foundation for this building probably was. 

“Yes, sir. I am Isshiki Kogoro, and this is Kurusu Akira.” There’s a polite smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach any further than his cheekbones, barely leaving his lips. The guy’s face is shielded by a fluorescent light; it flickers right before Akira blinks, and he swallows a gasp.

His voice was familiar, definitely, but he wasn’t expecting to see Kamoshida immediately as he entered the school setting. Had he suffered a change of heart? Would he be standing here right now if he did? A subtle tap to his hand from his right reminds him that this is only a game, that if he let himself get distracted by mere side quests then they’d be in deep shit later on, in the main storyline.

“Isshiki, Kurusu! We’re excited to have you here with us.” He, the principal whose name he could not recall, shouts to them, but he does not look as excited as he was claiming. His eyes sours above his chins, although his eyes stare into Goro. Akira’s glad he’s not the leader in reality, unlike how he is in the metaverse, because if they were to switch places in this moment he would be sure to collapse under the pressure. 

Morning - 4/20

It was fortuitous that Goro was a relevant enough television appearance that the mention of a different name to his face was enough to set a grown man off. Although unlikely that Shido would disclose the name of his hitman, it seemed the principal had his own theories on the matter.

“Ah, Isshiki,” his tone drips with sarcasm, flooding the boys’ ears. “Yes, right this way. Surely, you’ve met Niijima Makoto, correct? She’s truly remarkable, very much takes after her sister in her discipline.” High praise from someone displeased with the Japanese police force, especially Niijima’s department. A little, no, extremely ironic considering the legalities he jumped through to get rid of any obstacles, unnaturally. As it just so happened, Goro knew exactly who this man’s enemies were, and exactly the circumstances to get him put under fast.

He nods, putting his hand on Akira’s back to push him back out the door. Could this get any more boring? Suppose, this was scouting, in an enemy - infested area. Everywhere he turned, behind every corner, could be a watchful eye or a well - placed camera, tracking their movements. Anyone in this building could be hired by Shido or, more realistically, one of his opponents; if Goro was, then anyone with a seemingly meaningful connection with any higher up, politics or otherwise. He doubted there were others like him, working with Shido, in this school, but he’s cautious. Cautious and patient, and he’ll wait and scout as long as this mission needed.

“Since you enrolled this late in the semester, we weren’t able to squeeze you two into the same class, but I’m hoping your other specifications overpower that.” It’s a woman, some sort of teacher, talking to them now. She has unruly hair, not unlike Akira’s, with a yellow shirt over a denim skirt. Why isn’t it tucked in? That seems like a question he should ask. Perhaps it would be enough to get her to answer his exact requests. What good was this ‘elite’ school if they couldn’t even complete a simple entreaty?

It seemed as if Akira didn’t mind either way. Constantly, his eyes were straying from the woman talking to a dozen other things. The bird tapping on the skylight, a student leaving their class for the bathroom, a group from what seemed to be an engineering course working in the hallway on a project. They were suspicious of course. Why were they working on the floor, on the day Goro started school? It couldn’t be coincidence.

The class they sent Akira to was already open, and Goro saw him wave to someone inside as he walked away towards his own room, but he couldn’t see who. Sakamoto and Takamaki went here, didn’t they? If his memory was correct, which he knew it was, it would definitely be possible for one of them to be in either of their classes. He holds back a groan. Firstly, the mission was to keep an eye out for any new suspicious figures, not any old annoyances. If he was anyone besides Akechi Goro, he would’ve been crossing his fingers, hoping for a stroke of luck.

Noon - 4/20

Akira’s day was extraordinarily eventful. His classmates were either scared or curious of him. He wasn’t quite sure which. However, what he did know is that Takamaki Ann was in his class, her long, curly ponytails swinging in front of him each time she nodded at the teacher’s statement. He had entered during a mathematics period, and they were talking something about a line segment. Suddenly, he remembers, realises more like it, that he hasn’t been to school in literal months. Yeah, he was thinking about that earlier, but that was more about the anxiety of the forced social interaction in a scenario like this. Now, he was worrying about how he was supposed to pass any of his classes. Was that part of Goro’s plan? Would it be obvious that they were here to do something they shouldn’t be doing, if he got ass-below failing grades? Mentally, he makes a note to ask the detective about that. If it was that big of a deal, then maybe he’d do Akira’s work for him.

“Kurusu, can you answer the question for the class?” Oh, great. He was one of those teachers, picking on the ones that didn’t appear to be paying attention. Of course he was paying attention, he just didn’t hear what the question was.

He swallows thickly. “Could, uh, could you repeat that?” The teacher’s mouth looks ready to split into a smirk.

“Sure, Kurusu. I asked, ``Would a line connected to point A extend to point B, or point C?” It’s a stupidly easy question, and the answer is apparent instantly as Akira tilts his head just a few degrees past its natural resting position. An optical illusion of sorts, he guesses. Obviously, it doesn't allude to him.

He opens his mouth to answer the question, willing himself and his voice to not portray the level of sass enveloping his mind at the moment, but he doesn't get a chance to betray himself, luckily. There’s a knock at the door, and a figure steps in. It’s Kamoshida in the flesh, again, staring at the floor. Akira lifts himself up from his desk a little to stare with him. There’s nothing interesting by his feet at the door.

“Can I speak with… Takamaki for a minute, please?” Kamoshida begs; he’s begging for the teacher to let him call the female student out of class. There’s whispering, shifting occurring throughout the students, even the teacher, and he realises this is for sure not normal behavior. The bastard coach Akira knew wouldn’t even come to the classroom to ask, rather he’d text Ann and tell her to make up some excuse. 

The girl in question, especially, looks concerned with how he’s acting. Not so much for Kamoshida, but for herself. Akira doesn’t blame her. Calling her out of class, in the middle of a lecture, seemingly out of the blue would be very concerning. Should he try to warn her? Should he find a way to tell Goro? They should seriously consider getting him a phone, specifically for recon like this, where stuff like communication was super vital. This seemed like something he should be sharing as soon as possible. 

She stands up, light on her injured ankle, awfully hesitant, gripping the sides of her desk with white knuckles. Her shoes make a muffled sort of clacking, echoing throughout the now still room, her eyes focused on the ray of light shining through the window behind Kamoshida’s fat head. There's a bubble, between the pair and the rest of the people, watching silently. Should he breathe? Maybe he should breathe. And stop glaring at Kamoshida; look away, look away. But he can’t, for good reason. They don’t know if they succeeded in changing his heart or not, and he can’t remember if they had caught Ann up with any of that metaverse shit. It could be mind shattering to the wrong person. 

What he did know, however, was that the bastard was acting differently than usual, much different, in fact, that literally everyone else was noticing. He’d definitely have to mention these findings, even if none of the others matter all that much. Although Goro had technically, indirectly, helped them bring down the cognitive Kamoshida, Akira wasn’t actually quite sure if he wanted to be a part of the team, officially, or not. 

Evening - 4/15

“How’s Crow?”

The slap that comes a moment later was, arguably, well deserved. Akira grumbles and rubs his cheek. What was wrong with ‘Crow?’ He, personally, thought it was a perfectly acceptable name for the guy, but obviously he disagreed with it. Sure, he didn’t exactly look like a bird or anything, but it sort of fit the aesthetic of everyone else’s codenames, and it sounded cool, and that’s really what mattered. 

“Absolutely not.” It was too bad, really. Akira has to remind himself to not laugh, even when Goro’s back was turned, because he thought it was obscenely hilarious: if they cloned the detective a bunch of times, they’d have a murder, like a group of crows. It’s probably not as funny as he thinks it is, but he has to swallow his tongue a couple times to keep a bark in. Ryuji looks over at his squeezed face a few times, and it seems like he’s going to laugh himself. It’s a contagious thing, finding amusement in things you probably shouldn’t be. Or, at the very least, are very much not funny to begin with. 

As they’re grouped around Ann and the cowering douchebag, a sizable stone from the ceiling falls down, where there is already damage from the fight. Usually, Goro and Akira only had the palace collapse everywhere after they had killed the target. Maybe the cognition knew they weren’t here to kill the palace ruler, or something like that. For whatever reason, they were going to be crushed by the castle, breaking apart, and neither the ghost, the detective, the blonds, or the cat had any time for that. 

“Get out of here!” Kamoshida roared, and a pillar behind him snapped it two. It was only mildly ironic that the coach was shouting at them like that, to get out. They had literally just defeated him, with only a fraction of their powers, and he was even still laying on the floor in pain! No one could walk off a humiliation like that at all; it’d stick with him forever, Akira hoped. He, even still, whipped around and ran the direction to the exit, just narrowly missing a piece of debris hitting him in the spot where he was standing, idle. Goro and the others are running ahead of him, dodging flying armour and fragments of brick walls. 

Morgana stops for a brief moment, to help Takamaki up from where she’s been struck to the ground. Her leg is trapped under a beam, crushed against her lower calf; her ankle is visibly swelling under the red latex, and Akira winces. Goro doesn’t stop though, and pulls out his phone, aggressively tapping the screen. Ryuji stops for a moment, gesturing for the ghost to catch up, waiting for Ann to get up. 

“Get in!” Apparently, he must’ve been putting too much effort into running away from the disaster that was a crumbling cognition, or he got hit with a falling weapon, because now in place of Morgana was a black and yellow bus, with eyes as headlights and a tail by the exhaust pipe. Get in - the bus? Where did it come from? He doesn’t think stranger danger covered being wary of magical, talking animals, and his parents especially didn’t talk to him about entering that magical, talking animal. That sounded a bit worse than it did in reality; in reality, Morgana had turned into a bus - a Monabus, if you will - while they were escaping a perception warzone to aid them in getting away faster. 

Any cons? Maybe a little awkwardness, but his feet were hurting and the little specks of ash getting in his eyes was definitely not comfortable either. He quickened his pace, throwing himself through the air when the vehicle seemed close enough. The others are already seated inside, gasping at the air filling their tired lungs, eyes wildly surveying their surroundings.

He slides in next to Ann in the front seats, and Morgana - it must've been Mona, because there were no pedals or a steering wheel in the bus - steps on it, zooming down the step, quartz stairs. 

Once they’re fully out of the castle, Akira allows himself to look back at the others, his friends, teammates even. An equal look of disbelief shows on their faces, with a mix of excitement at the unraveling events. Truth be told, everything that had happened in Kamoshida’s palace - not just today, but over the course of the previous week - was an exciting turn of occurrences, as Goro would mock, and even Akira was in shock at how different everything was planning out compared to past missions. 

“Does this mean Kamoshida’s… good, now?” Ryuji, soft and hesitant, so unlike him, speaks up from the middle row. It’s a loaded question, in all seriousness, and he’s not quite sure how to answer it. They really didn’t know how the coach in real life would be affected, but they could hope for the best.

“Does it matter?” Goro slides a hand over his face; it’s shaking just the slightest bit. “I aided in cleaning up your fucking mess. Whatever happens to the dick now isn’t anyone’s problem besides yours.” That was a little harsh of course, but Akira supposes he’s half right. Ryuji doesn’t seem happy about it, of course. Ann, besides him, whips her head around to glare at the detective, which goes pretty much unnoticed, or uncared for.

Akira reaches back to try to slap at his knee in a scolding, but hits his hand instead. The detective’s finger brushes against his palm, just for a split second, until he pulls his hand back with the speed of a retreating hamster. It seems Goro did the same, because he could no longer see any part of his lower arm. He clears his throat, and looks ahead.

They’re well out of the palace now, parked in an alley not far from the street he and Ryuji first entered through. Morgana hums a sound of an engine, shaking the seats. Finally, they take a deep breath, in unison, and the tension leaks out of the air.

Morgana shutters. “Get out? I’m about to transform back.” His voice has little energy behind it. Akira’s eyes struggle to stay open, and it seems everyone else is feeling a similar way. Even the detective staggers a second on his feet as he climbs out of the Mona - mobile, hands grasping at support in the air that isn’t there. Goro glares down at his feet; there’s a rock lodged in the heel of his boot. Akira chuckles, reaching down to put the stone loose with the hilt of his dagger. He gets no thank you in reply, of course, but there’s a look on the other’s face that, for once, doesn’t reek of hatred and annoyance. 

There’s no one in the vehicle now - no one in Morgana - so he transforms back to his usual metaverse look. Ryuji pulls out his phone almost immediately, and they group up, with Goro as far away as he could be, and presses a button. The air morphs around them, its breath stilling and clouds stirring, back into place. Reality always seemed a lot more duller after a long trip in cognition. Now that Akira technically spends the majority of his time in the real world, not the metaverse or the half - metaverse land he was used to, the colours seem to be leaving from him, and he feels more and more like an ordinary person. Not dead, but obviously he doesn’t feel quite alive. 

Afternoon - 4/20

Class was shit, in all regards. Goro never much appreciated having to sit for hours in a single classroom, listening to teachers talking about topics they’ve long since stopped caring for. Most of the lessons the detective was already familiar with, so the whole concept of school, of going to Shujin for an education, was a complete joke to him. Goro longed for nothing more than to take the head of Shujin down - if not for the students, which he didn’t much care for in the slightest, then for Shido, another person Goro didn’t contain any positive affection for in his heart. Shido, at least, knew what he wanted and how to get it. What he wanted and the way he was getting it were both heavily contested within Goro’s mind, and he liked to think it was pretty obvious that he didn’t agree with the politician, even as he did everything exactly as he was told to.

He hadn’t heard from Akira, which reminds him that they don’t exactly have a reliable source of communication. Before he had unenrolled from his old school, the ghost could follow him around throughout the day, and if he had anything important to note he’d be able to shout it across the classroom. ( He had an awful habit of people watching, knowing they couldn’t see him and get freaked out. ) However, he assures himself, if something really were to go astray, the boy wouldn’t hesitate to run straight through the door. Explaining why the new transfer student had done that would not be easy, per say, but they always had mementos, the public’s cognition, in their weaponry. 

The teacher’s been circling the students, not unlike an eagle, monitoring them while they finished the assignment. It was ridiculously simple, of course, and he finds himself done with the work in no time at all. He very much did not miss going to school on a regular basis.

A knock against a desk startles the surrounded teens, causing even Goro to lift his head. The student, with almost all eyes trained on him, stands up straighter from his chair, pointing somewhere high, out the window.

“Oh my god, is she going to jump?” Well, that was unexpected. He looks over to where he’s pointing, spotting a black haired girl standing on the ledge of the roof, a piece of the building away. He wasn’t quite sure if he would be able to do anything about it. The class is running into the hallway now, though, despite the teacher’s adamant begging to stay in their seats. Goro, himself, stayed put, even when he saw Akira and the idiotic blondes running past the door. 

For all he knew, this could very well be a ploy, devised by his most heinous of enemies, to distract him from his true goal. Well, he was not going to be distracted. He continues to sit, even as his teacher gives up trying to rally everyone back into the classroom, even as more and more people line up at the window to watch in awe and desperation.

Finally, the noise catches up to him. Goro’s only a tad bit fed up with the abundant swarms, throngs, screaming and shoving, but he’s especially fed up with the manner in which the crowd is treating this incident. Do they not care for anything besides a little gory entertainment to widen their eyes, traumatise their day? Humans, even regular, ordinary humans going by their day, were fucked up. Goro could hardly stand the fact that there was a group of ordinary humans, looking through a window, ready to watch a young girl throw herself off a building, watch a young girl die. 

Is no one going to do something? Anything, anyone? At this point, even shouting at her from the courtyard below seems a more viable option to be helpful than just staring through the window pane. He decides now that perhaps he should be getting up, because it honest to god seemed that everyone around him was only admiring the situation. And besides, he supposes it would be an awful lot of coincidences, coinciding with his first day at Shujin. If he was trying to avoid suspicion at any costs, then this was probably his best option with the moment.

Swiftly, he stands from his chair. If he was trying to avoid suspicion at any costs, then this was probably his best option with the moment. Being lax in masking his movements, he rushes out of the classroom door into the filled hallway; it was definitely out of regulations to have this many people crowded into a single hall like this. He doesn't see Akira or the other metaverse users at all in his sight, but nonetheless he quickly finds the stairs from the third - floor to the roof. 

He’s unpleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t required to push past anyone to open the door. Even with the sign reading ‘roof off - limits,’ it isn’t unlocked, and stepping through it was only the hardest part. His eyes immediately lock onto the unfamiliar girl, and suddenly it's a little harder to breathe. He's not quite sure why, but the image of the young girl standing atop the edge of life frightens him considerably. Goro’s not quite sure what he came up here to do anymore, what he’s supposed to do.

Does he pull her back, convince her not to? How was he supposed to convince her when, a) he had no clue what she was going through, b) why this was such a bad thing, and c) what alternative he should be convincing her towards. He didn’t think suicide was a good option by any means; of course he didn’t, he had lived with his mother for a short period of his life, and knew that she had only left, by her own will - the only thing she was able to control with her will being her death - and because Goro was a heavy boulder upon her shoulders. He was an awful son, from what he remembered; always getting sick, demanding attention, needing help with the most basic of problems. To her, he’s sure, the solution must’ve been clear. 

She wouldn’t have to deal with the weight of an ungrateful child, given she was dead. But he’s not quite sure how that could be applied here. This girl, assumingly, had no child to bear, to put up with. This girl’s life was a mystery to the detective, who happened to hate mysteries. If there was one thing he was supposed to do on this rooftop, he realises, is understand this girl.

“Good afternoon, I’m Akechi Kogoro, and what is your name?” There: the first step in understanding another person was to learn their name. Perhaps she had an atrocious name, ugly in nature, and she despised being addressed in such a way. Most likely, it’s an ordinary name, but he could never be too sure, and it would be simpler to call her by any name, even one she hated.

She stumbles backwards, off the ledge. Her head whips around to face the voice, and her eyes tear up when she sees Goro. Ah, so maybe her name really was awful. The girl looks back to the courtyard below, then back to the detective, still standing in the doorway. He feels slightly nauseous. 

“Shiho. I’m Shiho.” Her voice breaks, and Goro releases breath. Why was he feeling anxious again? What an odd predicament. The timid girl - Shiho - looks nervously over at him, but they’re still not making eye contact. What was he supposed to say now? What was the second step?

“Hi...Shiho.” It sounded too similar to Shido, fell too lightly on his tongue. “What are you doing up here?” It’s a miserable question, and she responds with a miserable laugh. He scratches the back of his neck, an action extremely unfamiliar to him.

She sits down at one of the old desks strewn about, wet with recent rain and most likely crawling with tiny bugs. Goro takes a few stumbling steps closer, to the nearest desk. “I’m not really sure, Kogoro.” She twists her hands roughly in her lap. “Oh! It’s alright if I call you that, right?” 

“It’s quite alright.” It’s not like he really cares about it. It’s not his real name, so the effect it has for a maybe - soon - to - be - dead girl to be saying it with such finality in her voice, such lack of defiance, isn’t all too jolting. 

They sat in silence a moment, as their eyes finally met. Hers are stormy, teary, similar to Akira’s that night, at the cat cafe. Power lurks somewhere inside those eyes, he’s sure of it, but she seems just as wary and unsure of herself as the ghost did after they defeated Kamoshida. He couldn’t be sure of Shiho’s potential, of her worth - it seemed obvious to him at this moment, though, that she could definitely be helpful to him and Akira, as sort of a sidekick. First and foremost, however, he’d have to get her - permanently - off of this roof. 

“Kogoro, I don’t really want this.” She looks back down at the distance to the ground, grimacing visibly. “Giving up seems like the only option I have. It’s just too much.” Now, he notices the bandages, accessories around her face, legs, arms, neck. They were not covering normal injuries, that much he was sure, but past that he had no clue. From her uniform and physique she must play some sort of sport, and the only big sport at Shujin is volleyball. If he had his memorisation of the staff list still sorted correctly, Kamoshida was the head coach of the team, due to his national credibility as an Olympic finalist. That was part of the reason, Goro gathered, that the principal was so ready to pardon his abusive tendencies. 

How does he comfort her through something like this? “My mother died by her own hands.” So, he chose the obviously wrong path. “That’s just what she chose, I guess, and not a day goes by that I don’t blame myself; not a day where I don’t miss her, and hate myself.” That was probably more than he needed to say, more than she needed to hear. Not a single part of that was helpful in his mind, so he was surprised when her eyes softened dramatically, and the hint of a smile grazed her face.

It looks like Shiho’s about to open her mouth to reply, as the rooftop door is slammed open once more. Out come three more figures, each one more familiar than the last. Goro wants to slap himself, but not at the risk of worrying Shiho. 

“Shiho! What were you thinking?” Takamaki runs up to the pair, grabbing her by the shoulders. Akira winces slightly, and Goro shifts away. For how awfully he had handled the situation and the girl’s emotions, he couldn’t exactly tell if the way the blonde was doing it was correct or not, but it definitely didn’t seem like it. She was oddly more aggressive, abrasive, then her physical appearance ordinarly suggested. Not just in her actions, but in her attitude and language. The way she was reacting right now said a lot about her coping techniques, even though nothing really happened. Her friend was safe and sound, and it seemed like she had given up on giving up. Goro hadn’t been able to talk to her for long, sure, but there was a certain light that had returned to her eyes when she stepped away from the ledge for a second. He saw it in a ton of his cases, especially in emotion - driven people. That might become an issue; although she seemed worthy of working alongside him, and he was almost positive now that the girl wasn’t a threat, she very well could be if she didn’t keep a handle on her emotions. 

“I-” She doesn’t get a chance to speak, yet again. 

Sakamoto closes the door to the stairs, as if he was worried of someone following them up. If someone else was going to come up, they probably would’ve by now. That was a question: why hadn’t any adults, the staff at this school under a literal contract to make sure the students were safe, come up here before them? Goro supposes it’s not of much importance any more, but it leads him deeper into the thought of a conspiracy taking place in Shujin right under their noses.

“I love you, Shiho. Don't be stupid,” Takamaki whispered in the other girl’s direction. She wasn't shaking her violently any more, her hold sliding down to cup her hands. At least they had gotten past that, but now she was insulting her intelligence, which didn’t exactly seem right either. He’s not sure what it is about Shiho - he had only just met her, of course - that made him instantly okay with her company, especially when compared to the blondes currently invading his personal space.

Akira glances towards him, leaned against a desk a little ways away from the rest. He’s breathing unnaturally heavy, and for a moment, Goro accounts it strictly towards rushing up the stairs. Since the ghost was a year younger than him, he was on the second - floor, which meant additional hallways to run through and two flights of stairs. Stamina must change from the metaverse to reality, for him, then - Goro’s pretty sure his is about the same. But, with a closer inspection, the detective notices that that most likely is not the case. 

Confident that Shiho is better off with her friend, - despite the aggression - Goro stands up from his chair. Akira's gaze bounces up from the spot he’s fixated on, Shiho’s desk, to meet the detective’s eyes. He grabs onto the ghost’s sleeve, ignoring the jump threatening as a reaction to his hand not going through, and pulls him to the closed door. Quickly, it’s opened and shut again, leaving the two of them inside, the other’s out. 

“What’s going on with you?” Maybe it’s because he had just succeeded talked some stranger out of suicide that’s making him think that he can get himself involved in everyone else’s emotions like this. For the length of time the two had known each other, Goro didn’t think he’d asked Akira if he was okay more than two times, as the maximum. 

His breathing, previously much too rapid to be healthy, has completely stilled now. “What? Nothing’s wrong, Goro, I promise.” His eyes tear up and he tries to speak faster. “I mean it! It’s just today’s been stressful today, is all, and I promise I’m okay. I don’t think I can do this, going to school, Goro, it’s just too much, and there’s too many people, and everyone can see me.” Voice cracking, he brings his hands up to cover his face. He’s murmuring through his shaking fingers, head nodding in different directions as he tries to hold his tears in.

The detective’s trying to hear him, he really is, but he’s being more honest with himself than he usually is, and he can admit to himself that he’s not feeling very patient at this moment. He grabs Akira’s wrists, prying his nails from his cheeks, holding them more to the sides of his own head now. He has to step closer to use enough of his strength to keep the other from struggling out of his grasp.

There’s a gasp from in front of him; his focus returns back to the full picture, of Akira’s nose right in front of his, eyes wide and shattering the space between them. He’s closer than he meant to end up sure, but he finds himself slowly leaning in closer. It’s a common calming tactic used in special cases, usually regarding smaller children. Goro doesn’t deal with those cases often - the ones he has worked on consisted of school aged kids, getting too worked up to think straight without their parents, and him having them down. Some of them would hit their palms against their forehead, like Akira was doing only a moment ago.

His eyes close for a second; he takes a deep breath. It’s instinct to follow the breathing patterns of a person you trust, a person close to you. His grip on the younger boy’s wrists loosen slightly, as he opens his eyes again.

Akira’s much closer to him now, and maybe time was stopping, the beating in his chest intensifying, filling his ears. A second later, a minute, perhaps even an hour - Goro doesn’t know, all he does know is the raw emotion lacing the grey eyes, piercing through his.

Lips, softly, gently, press to his, and they leave faster than he can perceive their taste. It’s a strange sensation, and he would’ve enjoyed being able to analyse the action a little longer. Akira whisked away from him almost immediately though, to no fault of their own.

“Oh! Akira, are you alright?” Shiho asks worriedly, because apparently they knew each other. They had heard the door to the rooftop open, and hopefully broke apart faster than the others coming into frame. Goro raises an eyebrow; why were they asking if he was okay? He looks over to the ghost, and remembers he had been trying to calm him down, from a rising panic.

“I’m… I’m alright.” He murmurs, scratching his arm. A stillness falls upon them, and the detective has the instant urge to grab Akira and pull them into the metaverse. The mounting tension in this school was obviously too much for the both of them, given the extreme out of character actions performed by each, and just the fact that they hadn’t been, by themselves, in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also is it obvious ive never written a kiss scene in my life 👀


	7. mementos again ig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this chapter last friday :)
> 
> also! futaba in a few chapters?

Afternoon - 4/20

He touches his lips when he thinks Goro’s not looking, and thinks about how stupid he is. Crying because he was overwhelmed - then kissing his partner while he was only trying to be nice; Akira really is the biggest idiot to ever live, and then die, and then come back to life every once and awhile. Obviously his friend hadn’t been looking for a kiss, but when he closed his eyes with his hands on his wrists, leaning in ever so slightly… he can’t quite fully blame himself from reading the entire situation wrong. Hopefully it didn’t affect anything much.

“Isshiki, you saved her!” A random student, probably from Goro’s new class, ran up to the group, holding their hands out to Shiho. Akira had only met her randomly one day, while scouting out information about a new target at Shujin. It had to have been right after they had completed the botanical garden palace, because he had run into her; she had fallen, yet she was the first one to apologise, rather profusely. She was extremely cute, he remembered, with painful - looking bruising across her cheek, purple and swollen. Akira had asked her what was wrong.

Morning - 3/02

Running to catch up with his target, Akira’s shoe catches on the sidewalk, though, and he trips headfirst into the road. It’s not a busy street, even now, when most people were headed to work or school or something of the sort. Goro would’ve kept on walking if he had been there with him, pretending not to know the boy after tripping humiliatingly. He wasn’t here though, instead, in his place being a stranger; a young girl, short black hair, with a bandaid under her eye. Feeling florid, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m really sorry, miss.” He knew girls liked that, and she was pretty, especially when she smiled bashfully after he said it. That was probably his favourite thing, this time around, about being back to life for the little spell he had, people being able to hear him. Sure, it was a little jolting when he went on walks with Goro at times like these, yelling about the recent rerun of some show, and getting weird looks from older ladies. He’s forgotten how loud he could be, sometimes - the detective forgets, too, to remind him to keep his voice down, as if he’s only just realised ( just like Akira ) that he wasn’t the only one being subjected to the ghost’s rants anymore. 

“Oh, I’m Shiho! And no, it wasn’t your fault at all. Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, caring. She leans down to help him up with an unsteady hand, however, and Akira stares at her arm. Bruising, and bandages larger than the ones on her face accessorize her limbs. 

He meets her eyes; dark grey, like the seafoam coating an ocean, something out of a greek, lost - at - sea tragedy. There’s not much romanticism in his words, as her eyes really were rather empty. Unhappy, was probably the right word to use right now, in this context. Which was too bad. Everyone, especially teenage girls, Akira believes, deserve all the happiness they want. 

“I’m alright!” They fall silent now, as he slips his hand out of hers. It finally dawns on him that he had most likely almost taken her down in the fall with him, but she was still worried more about him. He clears his throat. “Are you?” He lifts his finger from his side, only coming up a few inches, to point at the molten mark on her cheekbone. She covers it, hitting her face with a slap in her haste.

She laughs, nervously, it seems. “This? This is nothing.” Shiho’s staring at the cube of air to the left of his ear. “I… I just saw you trip, and it looked like it hurt a lot, so I wanted to make sure you were okay, and-” Her ponytail whips around her neck; a voice calls out to her, from the entrance of the school, in a loud, boisterous tone.

“Hey, girl! Are you skipping practice again today?” Even though Shiho frantically shakes her head as a no, he keeps on going. “You know the punishment if you do.” With that, he turns on his heel, back into Shujin Academy, leaving her to hold her face in her hands.

Akira’s not exactly sure how to comfort her, of course, but he knows he has to at least try; right? She had been so kind to him - a clumsy stranger - and it seemed super, duper rude of him to not at least attempt to return the favour. There wasn’t much he could do about a mean teacher, but he could offer her a shoulder ( since he isn't invisible right now ) and just a little support. He’s sure that someone doing something like that for him would be more than enough. Shiho and Akira had the potential of being good friends, he knew, and he wanted to be good to his new friend. Her show of mild aplomb, even as she cried sparked something within him, and he wanted to learn more about her, with time.

“Shiho, I’m sorry about your coach.” He pats her shoulder, wary of any injuries hidden by her shirt. Almost immediately, her eyes were leaking, soaking the bandage on her cheek. Had he said something wrong? Oh god, what if that was her dad or something, and that was just how he was supportive, or something? Maybe Akira really should start staying out of other people’s business.

Even still, he keeps his hand on her back, patting in what he hoped to be soothing circles. Goro wasn’t one for physical comforting, or comforting in general, opting instead to yell at Akira to suck it up whenever he felt down. Hopefully, as they grew closer that would change, yet somehow he still doubted it. It was mostly endearing, the detective’s attitude, and he found himself not exactly caring all too much.

He tries a second time to get her to vent, only if she wanted to, of course. He assumes it would feel nice. “Hey, it’s going to be okay! I’ll be here tomorrow if you want to talk!” Was that nice? He liked being nice, even if it didn’t often amount to much reward for him. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he was making a new friend, and that new friend was sad at the moment, so he was making her feel better.

“Thank you,” she chokes on a sob. “I never even got your name.” He realises that too, but never really thought it was a big thing. He forgets he has a name, sometimes.

“It’s Akira!” He might’ve zoned out for a few seconds. “Shiho, if something screwy’s going on, you can tell me,” he thinks that might sounds a little too aggressive. “If you want, of course.” Maybe he should try that again; Shiho steps away from him before he could.

“I appreciate it, Akira, thank you. I have to get to practice, but hopefully we run into each other soon.” She gives him a soft smile, wipes a spot of dirt off of his chin, and hurries into the building. The man inside isn’t in his view, the few other volleyball players exiting the school blocking his sight. He’s debating either going to the coffee shop down the street - that’s what he came for, Goro’s cold brew - or looking more into her asshat of a coach, 

He decides the wrath of a grumpy, non - caffeine - filled detective is something he would much rather avoid, and takes a few steps backwards, not wanting to turn around from the school. It’s not that he misses school; the familiar environment, smelling of teenage sweat and angst, was not an daily experience he missed in his death. If being a ghost meant he could consider himself alive, but not have any real responsibilities, then maybe he wasn’t so mad at that guy for throwing him into the road, and for Goro saving him he was quite grateful.

Afternoon - 4/20

Goro wonders if it’s too suspicious for them to leave the premises. Campus activity had reached a rather dull low, and in all honesty he couldn’t keep his head straight. His ears were buzzing and burning, with an odd intensity like never before. His hands were shaking, and tremors ran through his body. Was this adrenaline? It was an awfully similar feeling to how he reacted in battle, leftover power humming through him. Akira seems the same way, most of the time.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Shiho has opted to ignore the previous event, even as Goro shakes at the thought, an hour after. He decides to focus now on the fact that they had supposedly met prior to today. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

Akira wipes his eyes; the group looks away. “Sorry, I’ve been, uh, out of town. How have you…” Ultimately, he probably thought the question counterintuitive. Goro focuses on discovering when they could’ve possibly acquainted, instead of at the ghost’s hands, violently wringing them by his chest. He still wants to get out of here, absolutely, but Akira had mentioned that Kamoshida had pulled Takamaki out of class, and he was only a little curious about that. There were other things, of course, that he was staying for - he’d rather pretend that was the only reason, though.

“Kamoshida… anyways, that’s in the past.” That was definitely for the best, he thinks, because it’s not like anyone present really wants to hear about it, recount his actions. Goro has his own theories, most likely not unique only to his mind. 

You, know, leaving Shujin right now doesn’t seem like a half - bad idea, now that he’s fully thinking about it. The only thing he really wants to do right now is knock a couple narcissist’s egos a few pegs down in mementos. Or maybe grab a cold brew; the coffee place he used to frequent is in this area, if he remembers correctly. There’s always LeBlanc, he thinks with a chuckle - yeah, probably not.

A voice comes over the intercom a moment later, as Goro’s trying to collect his things. It’s Kobayakawa, sounding out of breath, even from the comfort of his desk in the executive office. He can’t judge him much for that at the moment, when he himself is still trying to catch up to life. His lungs weren’t fluttering beneath his ribs anymore, not now, not for any reason. Eventually, he supposes, he would have to sit down and recount the day, because that’s what a good detective did. He can’t do much analysis if he’s avoiding slowing down to analyze his own, himself. It’s a little bothersome that he had so much adrenaline to spare, then, since he knew he could only expend it with a shit - ton of metaverse fighting. Getting Akira to join him shouldn’t be an issue; he doesn’t exactly feel like being alone right now.

Perhaps Shido had something for him to do, but he felt himself doubting that. When his father wanted something done, he got right to the point - calling Goro at all odd hours of the night, just to demand that he follow an old colleague of his to make sure he wasn’t going to a certain location, or going to see any of Shido’s known enemies. He was melodramatic in that way, and ( as much as he would deny it ) Akira often said the same of the detective. Which was entirely, completely wrong, of course.

“Akira, would you mind coming with me, for a little work I have left to finish?” He puts emphasis on work; he’s only slightly worried that the younger boy will take it literally, and would immediately deny his request due to a surface level interpretation. “I’d appreciate your help,” he tacks on to the end, hoping to butter up the deal. Of course, he could go without the extra set of hands - if anything, the other was more likely to weigh him down - but, as he had said, he didn’t even want to be by himself in reality, much less a twisted sense of the world he knew. 

The ghost’s face contorts strangely. It was rather reasonable, Goro admits, that he wasn’t too keen on leaving Shiho’s side. In all honesty, he had no clue how close the two were, having never seen them interact whatsoever before this date. Even he had felt a little hesitance in closing the rooftop door behind him. 

Afternoon - 4/20

Weather having cooled considerably, around them a steady chill of a light breeze, as they stood in the courtyard with the rest of the student body. The brown - haired girl he and Goro had ran into at the cemetery stands in the front of everyone, besides the higher level staff. Teachers are mixed in with the teens, a finger to their own mouths to try and divert focus back to the words being spoken. Akira, leaned back on his heels, right next to Goro, has no idea what is going on - what were they talking about, again? When they had come over the announcement system, told everyone to converge in the grassed area, he had hoped they would be lining up to leave the school for the day. Obviously, he was aiming much too high.

“The situation has been handled, and the student involved wishes conversation about today is limited. If the staff, or the student council, finds out any of you are posting about the incident, you will be immediately reported, phone confiscated.” She’s much harsher today, compared to last week, when Goro was passively aggressively talking with her, and she had kept most of her cool. The spring wind blows through her braid, yet that’s the most displacement in her image. Her eyes stay steady, staring off somewhere in the distance, while her lips stay in a fixed line without betraying much of anything. Truthfully, Akira hasn’t the faintest sense of Niijima Makoto’s character. He’s curious, yes, but at the same time he’s afraid to learn more. 

He thinks of Goro’s suggestion from earlier: sneaking out of the crowd, heading to the metaverse to kick some ass, and his smile widens considerably. The detective will most likely assume the tactic of forget and forget, deploying that method especially hard since the events of earlier. Of course, he should have realised how shocking the events unfolding were for everyone, not just that his day had been terrible. Yeah, yeah, he had enough self - awareness to know that his day being terrible was important to note, for his own mental state, and yet it seemed he could still not wrap his mind around the fact that what he did was wrong. It was like a bad American pop song, about a love being so wrong but feeling so right. Not that that completely applied here, of course; it was more about the principle of it all. 

“Hey, we heading out soon?” He’s getting more and more ansty now, tapping his foot against the soil. Although he’s half sure Goro is just as wound up as he was with anticipation, he can’t help but become a little impatient while waiting for his partner’s response. Were they going or not? If they weren’t, then Akira still was - going to go, that was. He’s just built different. He’d find a way to get to the lowest area of mementos, take down some Anubis’, possibly some new shadows. That was a super exciting thought.

The detective rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve been waiting for you to make up your mind.” It’s heavy with sarcasm, when he finally replies. Ms Kawakami had walked behind them, muttering to herself about wanting to get back to class. They’ll have an opening soon, he’s sure of it. As much as his finger itches to enter the cognitive world now, with just a tap to Goro’s phone - they still needed to get him his own device - since he’s not tied primarily to the metaverse when tangible, he’s blocked from the access points, even the ones he specifically knows exist. It was one of those things he wasn’t sure was a big deal, something to get frustrated over.

“Alright, alright, fine.” Akira lightly punches Goro in the shoulder, wincing himself when the other seized up at the touch. So that was how this was going to go. “Let’s just leave. There’s enough going on right now that I don’t think they’d notice us.” Part of him was slightly worried about the plan, but he knew there wasn’t nothing to fret about. If they got caught, the story could be easily changed to them having to go to the bathroom, or grab something ultra important one of them left in their classroom. ( Sometimes he worried over how great a liar Goro was - other times he was just grateful to be able to see through his fibs, nine times out of ten. )

With all the remaining teachers in the crowd huddled around a few crying volleyball girls, it was definitely easier than he had estimated to get to the door of the practice building. There weren’t many people in the hallways, like before, when they came in this morning; so as soon as they pulled up to a corner with no security cameras, Goro pulled out his phone, pressing a few equally pressured displays. That was something random he noticed, occasionally: the detective was prone to doing things very fairly - ironic - in a material sense. If he sharpened one of his pencils, he also had to sharpen the other, that type of equal stuff. It was applied here with the exact way, the constant speed in which he lowered his fingertip to the screen.

Akira wonders if the normal person would notice something like that. 

Goro doesn’t say anything else, not until they’ve passed the first non - running escalator of whichever area they started in. Shadows were few and far between - they ran into a few, exponentially pumped each time to rip them to shreds - but it was always the weaker ones, with only one or two abilities up their sleeves. Those were no fun to defeat, and it seemed the detective shared his sentiment. He could feel the mounting frustrating, collectively valued between the two of them, combined.

“God damn it,” he murmurs, picking at a spot on his cape. “God - fucking - damn - it, Shido.” Shido was not even here, as per Akira’s perception. Why Goro was cursing out his boss, he had no idea, but he jolted a little when he realised what the detective was doing. His gauntlets, with the sharp claws and thorns down the back of his hand, had gotten caught in the fabric of his cape. He was pulling and pulling but it didn’t seem to be doing anything, except tangle everything up even more. 

Akira hurriedly steps forward. “Hey, hey - let me help,” in as calm of a voice as he can manage, he tries to convince Goro to allow his assistance. Neither of them liked that feeling of being considered weak, needing someone else to finish a task with them - neither of them were particularly cognizant of that complex, however.

“Stupid cognition - why do we even change outfits, anyways?” He squeezes his eyes shut in a method of stopping himself from screaming. 

Akira shrugs, prying his littlest finger out free, with only the slightest bit of tearing. “Morgana says it’s what we think a rebel looks like. I don’t really feel like a rebel here, though.” He thinks it was one of the first questions he asked the cat, when they were just starting to become comfortable as a team in the metaverse. “Personally, I think it’s just so we look totally badass while kicking down monsters.” He kicks a foot out, forgetting that he was still grabbing onto Goro. 

“That’s a rather shit explanation,” he exclaims, pugnaciously. “I’m sure you’d be able to fight better in something much more...form...fitting.” It seems he gives up on his sentence halfway through, but carries out his train of thought. Akira clears his throat.

He nods, with more enthusiasm than he needs. “Yeah, something more like yours!” Admiring other’s styles was something he oddly enjoyed. He noticed Ann’s clothing choice outside of her school uniform, and - comparatively - it was a much more pleasant sight than Ryuji’s. That reminded him: he would have to ask Takamaki Ann how she preferred to be called. Goro never made it a point, making Akira call him by his family name. He was sure there was some reasoning behind that, of course, since the detective didn’t seem the type to simply allow such impoliteness, such blatant familiarity. Trauma, of some sort. ( He says that, because he assumes Goro has his mother’s name, not his father’s, only from the way he talks about his childhood. He also assumes that his mother is passed, but he can’t quite recall the reasons why. Had the detective mentioned something about her before? Maybe it was the way he interacted, treated, the late Isshiki Wakaba. ) 

Anyways - the skin tight costume had always looked remarkably good on the other boy. The colours contrasted his hair and eyes, in what he imagined to be the worst way possible. But, somehow, he made it work. He liked to pretend it was deeper than that - that the difference in aesthetics between his normal person and his metaverse person had a profound meaning, whatever it may be, Akira wasn’t that good any psycho - analysis, so maybe he shouldn’t be talking on this topic.  
“Ok.” Goro blinks. The ghost presses down on the other’s back, keeping the cape in place as he grasps one of the claws in between his fingers. It’s like rescuing a duck, he realises; a duck that has fully convinced themselves that they don’t need to be rescued, and will constantly fight you on it. That’s probably the most accurate metaphor he’s ever given the detective.

“I think we’re almost done.” Akira sticks his tongue out in concentration. “How’d this happen, anyways?” He was usually pretty careful, aware of where he was putting sharp things.

Goro shrugged, avoiding meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I had gotten distracted. Are you done yet?” He tries to pull his cape out of Akira’s hand, which results in a prick of a sharp piece of glove to the sharp part of his palm. Out of reflex, he abruptly tears his limb out of the tangle of fabric, gripping his wrist with his other hand. To be honest, the cut probably wasn’t even that bad, and he was just being a big baby - that’s what he assumes, until he sees the detective’s face pale considerably.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” It appears his filter has fully left for the time being.

Akira laughs through the pain. “I-” ha. “It’s just a lil scrape, Goro, it’s alright, let me finish helping.” He hates to see his partner struggling to unattach his claws, so that he could reach out to the younger boy. They’d only managed to get about half of his fingers unstuck, but he grimaces when he sees one going even further through the cloth.

“Here just - ugh, let me look at it, okay?” He’s being awfully nice about it; grabbing Akira’s bad hand with his one free hand, pressing down slightly on his fingers to see the cut better. It’s not as deep as it seemed Goro had dismayed, but still worse than the ghost had initially decided. It was a dull, throbbing sort of sensation, and he found himself wondering if Goro was ever going to let go of his hand. Surely, he’d seen every single dimension of the inch - deep cut, had he not? 

He turns his palm over once more, running his thumb along the outside of his pinky. There were no injuries there, from what Akira could remember - yet there’s still a little sting where Goro pressed the pad of his finger against the soft tissue. They pull away, Akira shutting his hand into a fist to avoid the sight of the red blood, dripping onto his fingers. The detective goes back to tugging his armoured glove from where it’s lodged, by himself this time. It seems he didn’t need the ghost’s help at all, when only a few moments later, the sharp edges were back to being displayed by Goro’s hip.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. He could barely feel the sting anymore, honestly; the cut wasn’t even worthy of a dia, in his opinion. They hadn’t even started fighting any shadows, yet, so he couldn’t find any justification for using spirit to heal a flesh wound. Maybe if he had sustained some really gnarly gouges from a badass battle it’d be fine. He’d have to wait for Goro to stop pouting to do that, though.

They continue down the same path, about two feet of dead space between them. Akira feels the need to apologise - for cutting his hand on the detective’s glove, like an idiot - but for some reason he feels like that would be misinterpreted. Goro seems aggravated still, of course. He feels like crying again, if only to get the other to roll his eyes at him, directed his way. That was stupid.

Goro walks a little faster than him, always has. His legs are longer, meaning he’s a few inches taller than Akira. Height didn’t exactly matter when you were dead; the ghost could float almost a foot over the ground if he really tried. But, man, he walked really fast. If he had been running away from anyone - instead of running to, as they were looking for shadows to loot - Akira doubts they’d ever be able to catch up with him. 

“Show me your true form!” It sounds like a song, at this point, like a catchy, popular one that was permanently fixed to the radio mix. They both usually didn’t care for those types of songs; Akira more or less played up his anguish at hearing the same five songs playing in the shopping mall all day, when, in reality, he actually thought some of the songs were pretty good. They were popular for a reason, most of the time. And he was always into idols, anyways.

There were two Genbu’s in front of them now - pieces of cake. Akira was a tad disappointed, that this far down there were still filler enemies, still enemies that took three punches to the face and fell to the floor. He couldn’t be for long, however, because the shadow to the left took a swig, straight to his kneecaps. He thought that unbelievably rude; all things considered, some personas really were rather rude. Distasteful, a lot of them. Goro didn’t seem to care, though, when a shadow was being bitchy - it seemed to be something he and the opponents had in common. That and useless aggression in the face of kindness, because, sometimes, Akira was nice to them, only for them to spit in his face. It always smelled fruity, almost.

The fight was over as quickly as it had started, with a bang and a boom and then Goro was trying to hide his panting next to him. He couldn’t be sure if he had actually offered any help, in any way; he sort of blanked, unfortunately. But it wasn’t like Goro needed his help anyway - not against two stupid Genbus. He sighs, cracking his knuckles. With just a quick look to his left, he spots new stairs going down, appearing out of thin air. 

“Goro! Look-” the detective beat him to it, cape fluttering against Akira’s shoulder as he hurried to scout out the newly unlocked area. Although, it was highly possible that that wasn’t what the emerging steps led to. Usually, when they reached an access to a lower level, they were able to scale down it immediately, as soon as finding it. No limitations, no barriers, no magical escalors popping up. 

Their shoes clack against the hard floor, tile or concrete or something, echoing nicely throughout the narrow passageway down. It grew darker around them, Akira noticed - or that was just his imagination? He didn’t much like the dark. When he lived in the same house as his parents ( he wouldn’t say with, per say, because they only ever returned home long after he had fallen asleep, so it was more like they existed in the same space as him for spells ) he would lie awake, with a plug - in night light, waiting for them to come say goodnight. Most of the time, he fell asleep before hearing the front door open, but he liked to think they fixed his sheets and kissed his forehead every night when they did come home. 

Afternoon - 4/20

“So, uh, when’d you meet that girl?” He knew her name. Did it make him sound cool to pretend he didn’t? Supposedly, he shouldn’t be caring what Akira thinks of him caring about some stranger; he liked to do as much as he could to keep up with his public image, even in public. If his fans thought the Detective Prince was someone who was cold and calculating, then that would be who he was. At least for now. Also, he’s not quite sure of what kind of answer he should be expecting.

Akira shrugs. “A while ago, I think, but not before I died.” Well, that answered it, then. But, he keeps going. “I ran into her, around the time we were looking into that dude - the weird one obsessed with plants - and she was having a bad day, probably.” Ah, swell. So, from what he can gather, the ghost ( while tangible? If it was before they had entered the botanic palace, then it must’ve been late February, early March, when they defeated that politician set on using Kyoto’s population to boost him, in one way or another. ) had met Shiho, had a brief conversation with her in which she complained about the events leading up to them running into each other, and then never spoke with the woman again. 

“Why?” 

“Oh, no reason. Just curious as to why she seemed so familiar with you, at Shujin.” He still wasn’t fully comfortable with knowing people that went to the academy, talking with anyone of its residents for more than an excusable passing dialogue. Just the simple fact that almost every student there had a phone made his bones ache with paranoia. With a phone you could put a track on somebody else, voice or video record someone’s whole life, and share your findings with the whole world. Not to mention enter the fucking metaverse. It was understandable that being in such a risky environment like that made him a little uneasy. He knew what safety looked like, knew what working with / as a bad person looked like, but there were just too many people to watch out for. Too many suspicious figures lingered in a school, and it wasn’t possible to watch, manage, the activities of every single one of them. 

Akira grunted, grabbing onto the red - coated railings, as his foot got caught on the edge of the stairs. “Yeah, I guess I made a lasting impression.” He winks, totally ignorant of the fact that Goro saw him almost eat - ass on an unmoving escalator. “Today was kinda awful, though.” His tone sombers, and he stares at the space between their feet. They’ve stopped walking, yet again.

“Well, I suppose that’s how it goes. She’s still standing, isn’t she?” Akira chuckles darkly; the detective wonders if he could take that statement back. It seemed too soon to be treating the situation so light - heartedly. He grips one of his left talons between his right knuckles.

“Sure.” He kicks at the dirt, and they start down the steps again. There’s a lull in their breathing, now - Goro wonders if the tension is what’s causing the tightness of his chest. There’s a sickening smell in the air, too, coming from below. He wonders if they should be going this way; of course, there is no question to him - they must, as they knew nothing of this path. If they stayed to the same area, no progress would ever get made. That is only what he believed, no matter what was at the bottom of this expanse. There were rather a lot of steps, the detective notes, documents.

Within another two or so minutes, the landing had arrived. Around them was a great big room, red and black and ridiciously empty. There was not a single other soul in the space, even considering its size. What was this place for; how had he appeared from the public’s cognition? Akira rubs his chin thoughtfully. 

“It’s an access point.” The ghost says it with such certainty that Goro does a double take. 

He blinks hard. “Inside mementos?”

“Well - yeah, I guess so.” Was that unheard of? Goro didn’t often see access points, unless he was inside the palace. Was there supposed to be access points inside a place like this? - It could be argued that mementos, itself, was a palace, a palace of the people. So, if that were the case, how could there be a palace inside of it, a hypothetical palace? It didn’t make much sense, and he wanted to ignore the situation entirely. No answer could satisfy him completely.

Goro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Very well, then. An access point to what?” It couldn’t be that stupid florist’s, or the bastard coach from Shujin, because they had taken care of both of those opponents, destroyed their cognitive dissonance. 

“To a palace,” Akira sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. Goro knows him well enough to understand that he is most assuredly not. Did he really have to be that specific? That was truly despicable. 

“Obviously to a palace, idiot, but whose?” There were hundreds, thousands of people with enough mental issues to warrant the development of a departure from the ordinary public mind. Only those types of people had palaces - only the worst of the worst were qualified to be Akira and Goro’s targets. Or if Shido requested them. There was a big difference in the ways they treated their chosen evils versus the way they treated the pre - chosen enemies. It was never as fun without his own personal grudge against the man he was supposed to be killing. He wonders for a split moment if there’s supposed to be any fun in that at all. He assures himself that there is, when you do it for a job enough. You have to find something enjoyable about your work, right?

It looks like Akira’s thinking for a second, before puffing out his lips and shrugging. “No idea, man.” Good answer, he thinks; he can’t be too harsh, though, since he’s pretty sure you can’t know the owner of a palace just from the appearance. Well, this detective probably could - obviously he wasn’t going to put the ghost’s up to the same standards. After all, he had been perfecting his life, status, image for as long as he’s been alive - to be superior. 

He shakes his head in displeasure, noting the scenery once more. Red was a colour easily associated with the metaverse; if you asked a blind man - assuming he was a metaverse user - what he thought mementos looked like, Goro bet that his answer would be the colour red. Extremes, violence, anger, danger, adventure. Just the scent of energy gave the detective very… dark orange vibes.

Akira whirls around on his toe, pointing to a space somewhere behind Goro, about the height of his lower leg, up to his knee. As he turns around, he notices more and more of the decor, placed slovenly in a mess along the vines walls. There’s a golden - leaved plant, about where the ghost was directing him towards. Was that it? What was so special about it?

“I feel like I’ve seen that pot before…” He probably had - it is the public’s perception of society, was it not? So any objects here could very well be anything found in Japan’s reality. Or any other country with a big enough metaverse influence. Goro’s not quite sure how mementos worked, region to region. Were there regional denominations? He always wondered about that, about palace distance, as well. ( What if a person’s palace was a place they didn’t return to often anymore? Would it still be influenced by their present day actions? Or would it be stuck in the past, the time when the palace had been developed. Maybe if the ruler grew far enough away from the location of his cognitive imbalance, then it would just cease to exist. )

Hearing a click of a tongue, the detective swings around, looking pointedly for the source of the sound, Unfortunately, this was the exact moment Akira decided to try and disperse the awkward air swimming around the two of them. 

He began to explain himself, saying, “I was thinking-” “I don’t care what you were thinking,” Goro interrupted. He continued searching for the tongue that had alerted him, but no shadows could be found nearby. Did it come from inside the palace? The detective easily concludes that they should not be entering the access point, no matter how tempting, until they knew whose it was. Besides, it was probably just the home of some demented business man’s thoughts about his younger female co - workers. Nothing to their usual caliber. 

Goro sighs heavily. “As you were.” There’s no point in commanding him to be silent, anymore, if he couldn’t locate any close enemy. The sound was probably a result of some metaverse bullshit, to get on his nerves. He refuses to even acknowledge the possibility that it had been a figment of his imagination - that while he was looking for an enemy, his mind supplied him with one. That made zero sense to his conscious, so he dispelled the thought.

“Nevermind,” Akira earns an exasperated look. “I actually forgot what I was going to say.” Ah, of course he did.


	8. this is just me attempting to fix plot holes

Afternoon - 4/20

The air around them was definitely growing warmer, anomalously through the chilled winds, whispers of the human mind, humming around them. Akira wondered, for a moment, if they should head back to the surface. His adrenaline had long run its course, even though they hadn’t exactly done anything to tire him out. Dealing with grumpy Goro was always a troublesome task; it took much effort, that the ghost didn’t normally have to use. 

“I’m leaving, this has turned out to be of no help.” The detective sulks. Of course, when he thought so pessimistically that the event wasn’t going to be enjoyable, then it wasn’t going to be. Akira liked to think that’s how it always worked - like saying you were going to fail a test would directly make you fail the test, but he knows a little better than that.

He nods, but frowns at the same time. Bored, he for sure was - even with the random encounter of a totally new palace, he was kind of over that already, though - but he wasn exactly done with the metaverse exploration for today. They had barely gotten to do anything! After Goro had basically dragged him here, he had expected the other boy to be all over the shadows. ( There was also a different category he was expecting, but right now he's pretending that he definitely wasn't thinking of that.)

¨Aw, come on,¨ he’s decided to argue against the detective’s ability to make a decision for himself. “Do we really have to? Just a little longer?” Goro had shut him up before he had been able to tell him his theories about this new palace; not that he thought any of them were particularly good, per say, just that it could be interesting to investigate this new - completely unexplored - area. He was also still the slightest bit worried for Ann. Actually, much more than slightly - he was genuinely concerned for his friend.

Kamoshida, they had taken care of him but without evidence of change, had called her out of class, she had shown up at the bottom of the stairs to the rooftop right as Akira had been rushing up to find Goro. Ann hadn mentioned anything about the coach, nor seemed generally distressed or muddled, or in any great disarray at all. He had seen her called out of class, though, and seen the fear on her face when the older man asked after her. Her eyes had grown wide, lips pressed together tightly. He didn have to know what they talked about or where they went- all he truly wanted to know is if she was okay.

¨Stay if you insist.”

Maybe it's the fact that his only friend - the only friend that he’s known for more than a week or so - is someone who is very much not open about anything, hardly anything at all. Goro never really required his assistance, yet he provided it through the other’s reluctance each time he saw him fall. Now that he had made the acquaintance of a few people that probably wouldn’t turn away his hand each chance he offered, maybe Akira feels personally responsible for their health and happiness, well - being. Was that healthy for him? Most likely answer: no. But, he was okay with that! If Goro didn’t need him ever, he was perfectly fine with being needed by the others. He lived to serve. He wonders if the rest of the team would like him less if he hadn’t jumped into action as their leader. They needed him, and that was obvious. 

So, now, as the detective stands a few feet in front of him with his arms crossed, Akira knows that he will follow wherever he is taken. Did his parents teach him that, on one of the days they were actually at the house to interact with him? Did his parents teach him that people would like him, would appreciate him more, would find pleasure in hanging out with him instead of annoyance, if he was useful to them? Or was it more in his nature.

On one of the days, when he was hanging out with the next door neighbor to learn more about plants - in order to defeat the big boss of the last palace, they needed basic knowledge on the growth of a certain type of succulent - she had mentioned that he seemed much more comfortable in her apartment when he was running tasks, errands, for her. She had stated that she was only thinking aloud, but had thought that maybe it was a result of a painful, unfortunate upbringing.

He had disagreed immediately. 

Morning - 4/21

After he had threatened - quite nicely, he might add - to leave Akira in mementos on his own, they had left, together, rather quickly. And, now, as he was waking from what was an amazing night’s sleep, he completely shut his brain off. The temptation to think about the events of yesterday was almost too much to bear; he didn’t have that kind of will power in the mornings.

Akira was looming over his chair at the table, while they ate breakfast. The ghost had already finished - sucking up his sandwich like a vacuum. A human vacuum, was what described him the best. Goro accounted for the fact that the younger boy also seemed to absorb nearby emotions, and his analogy grew even stronger.

“Do you work today?” He didn’t sound too curious, more focused on Goro’s own meal. His long fingers wrap possessively around the food.

He nods, covering his mouth until he swallows. “Yeah, and I have a class afterwards.” He never put a lot of time into school, but it was still something required by law. He was eighteen, technically, but his education had been put on a temporary hold a few years back - right around the time he started working for Shido, actually.

“Oh, alright. I’m thinking of going to that cafe today.”

“Ah, we just went there last week, though. Aren’t you worried the employee’s will think you are a regular?” He says this light - heartedly. It was true they had literally just been at that cat cafe in Shibuya - he doesn’t believe that that would be enough to tag Akira as a usual to the establishment. After all, even when his mother had been taking him there multiple times a week, the ladies working there hadn’t recognised him - until he started biting the cats back, that is.

Akira rubs the back of his neck, leaving Goro squinting his eyes. “No, I meant that other cafe. The one we took Morgana to.” Ah, well that was just as fine. Why did he seem nervous to correct him, tell him the full truth?

“Alright, then. Tell the owner I wish him well.” The detective swings his legs around the stool, standing from the table with the dirty plate in his hand. “If you run into that fucking cat, though, tell him I hope he rots in hell for eternity.” He hadn’t seen Morgana since the defeat of Kamoshida, and he was certainly glad for it.

However, the other boy doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. He stares with a flat expression, piercing eyes. “Ok, sure. I’ll give him a hug for you, too.” With a smirk, now, that lifts the corner of his grey eyes, he peers at Goro. When the ghost wasn’t really a ghost - so, times like these - his injuries were harder to spot. It seemed the tilt of his head had righted itself, that his fingers were more a pale red than a deep purple, and the bruising along his jaw looked more like a stubble; one that an overly ambitious teenage boy was trying to grow out, purposefully oblivious to the fact that it absolutely looked like glued - on pubes. Well , actually, it looked more like a shadow on Akira, and he couldn’t argue with the fact that it was a redeemable look on the younger boy. Perhaps he is too harsh often.

“I’ll kill you and that blasted mongrel if you even give a hint that I am affectionate towards him.” Goro was still smiling, though, he was trying not to show it. “Fuck off.” He doesn’t really have much experience in joking in this way; being aggressive, sure he did that a lot, but being aggressive in a playful manner? Was that even a thing, or was it just an Akira thing?

His eyes close as he laughs. “Goro, I swear to god, I’ll kiss you fi-” They stop laughing. A slip of the tongue, he assures himself. In this context, yes, it would not make sense to threaten the detective with a ‘kiss,’ when he himself had said he was going to ‘kill’ the other.

“I-Anyways! I’ll be off now, going to go to LeBlanc, and drink some coffee - mhm, yummy.” Akira has a strong distaste of coffee. “Right, yes, I need my shoes.” 

Goro stands, watching, as the ghost trips backwards - he won’t, for some ungodly reason, turn his back towards the older boy - and leans down to swipe up his shoes. That’s the only time their eyes leave each other, until Akira is out the door, swinging open behind him. He couldn’t even close the door? A hand stretches over to the doorknob, closing it quickly. Oh, Goro looks away, inhaling, it seems he did.

Wait - didn’t they have school today? He would’ve thought it obvious, since he had even mentioned that he had class, as well. Maybe he had gotten confused, since he had also said he was going to work first; Goro often has cram school on days where there normally wouldn’t be any classes. He’d have to catch up to him, surely - they only had a limited number of days to do surveillance, while Akira was even able to go to school, and they couldn’t miss out on this perfect opportunity. Just the sheer chance that he was even able to enroll the ghost into Shujin was outrageous; he hadn’t suspected it to work. But now, he was going to miss his second day of school. Which, in Goro’s very logical thinking, would be very suspicious, not to mention a waste of their valuable resource. It seems like he’ll have to follow after Akira.

That wasn’t too much of an issue, presumably. He couldn’t have gotten too far, not when he must be struggling to put his shoes on while rushing through the apartment complex. Hopefully - in some back part of Goro’s mind he sincerely hopes this is not the case, just so he can direct the other boy in the right direction with a smug look on his face - Akira remembered there was school today. The younger Niijima, especially, will grow extremely suspect of them if they didn’t show up - immediately after the enrollment process.

“Akira?” ( Akira Fudo, he’s tempted to call out. ) There’s an obvious lack of response, so he looks down from the railing outside the front door, to the parking lot below. He doesn’t see his roommate anywhere, and worries that maybe he had gotten a little further than Goro had assumed. 

There’s rattling from somewhere behind him; he easily accounts the sound to be his neighbor leaving her house for the day. He doubts she’d have seen Akira leaving, though, since that would be much too lucky for his usual fortune. Also, she seemed to have recently awoken - stumbling through the door without her glasses on.

“Akechi! How are you doing this morning? Did you rest well?” She smiled kindly, looking down at the black pavement with him. “I hope yesterday was not too tiring, for you and your friend.” He’s almost a little surprised ( disappointed ) to hear her address him as anything other than his boyfriend, or his flatmate. Maybe she’s finally caught on, he thinks with aspiration. But, he thinks, what had happened yesterday that she would’ve heard of, so soon, knowing that the two of them had been involved? It couldn’t be Shiho - of course, in all possibilities it very well could be, yet he found himself doubting that very much. 

Before he backs away from the banister, Goro swallows back a sigh. Akira would be back eventually; he couldn’t have embarrassed himself to such a high caliber as to avoid the detective forever. “Good morning to you as well.” As of recently, he had grown oddly as ease in her company - that didn’t mean he couldn’t suspect her one of Shido’s accomplices, or something of the sort. Geriatrics didn’t get a free pass, not in his paranoid eyes. “What did you mean of yesterday?”

“Oh! I did not mean anything too specific, although I hope you didn’t run into any trouble!” She screws up her eyebrows, biting her cheek. “I only knew it was your boyfriend’s first day back at school, was it not? I heard the two of you talking about it, through my wall one morning.” Were the walls that thin? First of all: he’d have to get that checked out and; second of all: what else had they talked about in their apartment that all the nearby tenants and not just this one, could’ve heard? Surely, they’ve argued rather loudly about metaverse shit. That could come up as an issue for them sooner or later. 

He nods, searching for an opening in the budding conversation. “Understood, understood. Well, I better be off now - Akira left without his bag for school.” Not mentioning the fact that he was, in fact, not holding his school bag, it was a very believable lie.

“Ah, ok.” She waves with all her strength, backing back into her doorway. “Don’t be a stranger!” - which was just another one of her versions of ‘Akira ( and you! ) are welcome over at any time.’ He’s tempted to strangle her. That would probably be overstepping boundaries, he thinks.

Also, he doesn’t dignify her with a response, which he thinks is as close to choking a social person out that he can get. Now, all that’s left to do is find Akira and remind him that they had a legitimate job to do at Shujin Academy. 

Morning - 4/21

The rain had softened today, falling upon Akira’s hair with gentle plops. He wasn’t planning on leaving the apartment for long; maybe just long enough for Goro to forget that he had even said anything, but he should’ve known that wasn’t happening. He hadn’t even been aware that it was a school day when he woke up this morning, after all - so now he was standing out in the drizzling weather, without his uniform, his bag, or his confidence. Although he had assured himself yesterday that the staff had seemed pretty lax, he doubted they would excuse his blatant neglect, disregard, for preparation. 

But, hey! Ryuji barely wore two articles of the original uniform, so maybe him showing up in house clothes wouldn’t be all that bad. They couldn’t get too mad at him, right? It was only his second day, after all. The younger Niijima sister might have an issue with it, but he didn’t believe she had any real power within the school. If it really did turn out to be that big of a deal, he would just teleport to the metaverse, hide out there until Goro realises where he is, and never come back to Shujin ever again. He didn’t need further education, neither did they need further information on ‘suspicious’ figures at the school. ( The most suspicious thing he had observed, in his five minutes of standing at the entrance of the school, was the same student going in and out with multiple other students, as if they were pretending they were waiting by the outside doors for the next girl. But that was more funny than suspect, he thinks. )

“Akira? Are you, uh, good?” Ann, with her perfect pigtails bouncing upon her shoulders, asked him with concern. She was probably referring to his appearance, more or less. 

He hadn’t been expecting her to show up right now, but he was determined to make the most out of it. “Ann! Yeah, I’m good, how are you doing?” His face softened, wondering if Shiho was going to be in class today. Certainly, even just considering Kamoshida’s behavior recently, Ann had plenty to be stressed about - he had thought hard about it earlier, and he hadn’t changed his mind yet. 

Although he wanted to know what went on, he knew she’d have to get to school soon; also, he wasn’t actually sure where they stood on a friendship scale. They had never really talked one - on- one yet, but she seemed comfortable enough with him to come up to him and ask if he was okay, and look him in the eye with that scared expression when Kamoshida said her name. He didn’t know exactly how bad he looked in the moment - considering her reaction, and a couple of the other tenants of the apartment complex he must look god awful. He wasn’t really thinking about much when he left, just the fact that they had meticulously avoided speaking about the subject, until it slipped from his big, stupid mouth.

“I’m doing okay; Shiho won’t be coming to school for a while - but, on the positive side, Kamoshida told me yesterday that he’ll be resigning soon.” She wrings her hands together and smiles brightly at him. “I think he said something about early May? He felt...bad, he said that that was the earliest he could ‘be ‘condemned for his crimes.’ Do you think this has something to do with what we did, in that world?”

Biting his cheek, he thought about the easiest answer to her question, without giving her too much information that’ll overwhelm her. “I can’t be sure, but that’s most likely the case. What usually happens - I mean, what Morgana says could happen - is the palace owner being destroyed along with the cognitive distortion, because of, like-”

“Is that what you and Crow did?” Ann interrupted, seemingly having gathered up the courage to ask him such a question. It shocked him how easily she had known about his and Goro’s connection to the metaverse. Had the others told her almost instantly? He couldn’t exactly blame Ryuji if he had, because they barely knew each other enough for the blond to trust him and keep a secret with such mystery alluding it. 

“Who told you about that?” That’s a question that he knew the answer to; it probably made him seem even more suspicious in her eyes.

“No, it’s nothing like that! Ryuji was just telling me that you two knew each other before everybody else did, and that you were really familiar with that world.” Ann shakes her head back and forth shakily. “But I didn’t mean anything by it! I’d rather make my own opinions on your characters, instead of blindly listening to Ryuji and the monster cat.” 

He’s not sure if any of what she’s saying is making sense to him right now. Honestly, he feels the slightest bit hurt that Ryuji had immediately cast suspicion upon him - but especially the detective. It’s not his fault he was employed to kill people! They hadn’t even known there were other ways to go about it until just recently! If it hadn’t been for Mona, they’d still be following the boss’ orders with little less than a hard blink as a sign of reluctance. He says that if they’re still not waiting for another call, another target, another target to take down, under the pressure of an unspoken threat on their lives. Shido’s wishes were more or less what the others were blaming them for, when they had done pretty much the exact same thing - taking someone else's life into their own hands, playing god by deciding if they deserved to live or die, if they deserved to continue living their life how they were. Weren’t they doing exactly what Goro and Akira had been doing? 

“Alright. Well, I have to go back home - because I just so happened to forget literally everything that you need for school! I’ll see you later, though?” He backs up, with a finger pointed towards the blonde. She nods her head, plasters on a smile. He hides a frown, though; had they not been getting along? He had hoped to be making a bunch of new friends, yet it seemed like they were all just so untrusting of him. But Goro was his friend first, of course, and he had to help him clear his - both of their - names, before making any more progress with his relationships.

Speaking of Goro, actually, the ghost ran into him not even another block away from the school. It seemed as though he had been walking his stuff to him, as evidenced by the extra Shujin uniform in his arms, along with two school bags with the respective straps around both his shoulders. He already had his uniform on. He wears it nicely; blazer unbuttoned as of right now, white turtleneck hugging his gentle neck softly, plaid pants falling just short of the top of his oxfords. 

“There you are; I was starting to think you peabrain had figured you were better off dying a second time.” God, Akira really needed to reteach him subtlety. Luckily, he’s pretty sure the first bell just rang, so every student in the vicinity just ran to the front of the school. 

“Ah, thanks. I-” He coughs into his hand. “Sorry for this morning, um, thanks for bringing my stuff.” Akira holds his hands out in waiting. The rain falls a little harder now; he just wants to get inside, dry his hair, change into the uniform, and pretend nothing abnormal happened, at all, in his entire life. That he didn’t die - but is miraculously alive, now. And that he wasn’t a stupid fuck that kissed people who were just trating him with basic kindness, like a friend would normally do. Goro was literally just being his friend, and he goes and does that. It’s a wonder they’re still here, together.

Goro holds his blazer tighter in his grip, staring down at Akira, like a pest. Well - that was kind of how he always looked at people, except when he had his Detective Prince persona glued to his face. “It’s fine; just shut up. I’ve decided I’ll just go into work tomorrow, and go to school fully today.”

“Does work even, like, work like that?”

“It does when they’re afraid to fire you.”

“Ah.”

Noon - 4/21

Akira, after his morning classes, left to have his lunch in the library. They’d cover more ground like that, he had said, watch more students during their lunch hour. Truthfully, he knew Goro was probably going to be eating with some obsessed teen girls with zero concept of personal space, and Akira wouldn’t even get a chance to talk - to him or to any of the others. He actually had no idea where they ate lunch.

The layout of the school wasn’t all that confusing, actually. It was just getting from one side of the building through outside doors that was troublesome. Also - for some ungodly reason - the students like to crowd around certain doors - before practice, before lunch, whenever - to make it literally impossible to get through that exit. So, even if he knew where Ann and Ryuji were eating, he doubts he would be able to get to them before the hour ended.

He gave Goro some poor excuse, and got a heavy, but concealed, eye roll thrown in his direction. The library? Were they even allowed to eat in there? Of course he didn’t know that for sure; it would give him some quiet, alone time if there was no one in there for lunch.

Alas - he really should’ve expected Niijima to be here. Not that he didn’t like her! She was just mildly terrifying, and although he hadn’t actually seen her do anything that would warrant such a title, the aura she produced was so potent he was positive he could cut straight through it. As for being in the library, yeah, he really should’ve expected that.

“Kurusu, was it?” She calls out to him from where she’s seated at a round table by the door. Diligent, is a good adjective, describing how she had looked before she noticed him. He swallows thickly.

“Hi, Niijima,” he waves shortly, teeth clenched. He didn’t want this to be a bad conversation, but he wasn’t sure if she could be trusted. Judging by Goro’s assessment of her character, she was seemingly already wary of the two of them; he couldn’t give her any more reasons.

“Where’s Akechi?” Her tone is innocent, not disclosing her true intentions. Akira thinks he admires that about her, being able to hide her feelings from her voice. “Or is it Isshiki now?” Honestly, he’s not exactly sure why Goro thought using a fake name would fly. The principal had gone along with it, sure, but he had looked confused, on the verge of calling them out of the charade. Now, on the second day, Akira was having to deal with one of the detective’s targets on his own, with no skill of evasion.

Maybe if he had a persona with a high psy wall, he’d be able to dodge Niijima’s questioning gaze. “Uh, I think he’s in the cafeteria.” No, he knew he was in the cafeteria. “And, uh, yeah he’s going by Isshiki now. It’s to avoid - publicity.” Publicity? Was that the right word? Probably not, actually; he just meant to avoid attention - he should’ve just said that.

She nods, and he can’t read her expression. “I suppose that’s in his character.” Yes, he supposes it was. “How are you liking Shujin so far? I assure you, our days are not so morbid and chaotic as your first.” Speaking without emotion was an incredible feat, one that Akira grew up hearing a lot. He hadn’t, obviously, perfected that himself, yet, but Goro was easily his blueprint.

“I like it, yeah - It’s a school, isn’t it?” That was probably insulting; however, his goal here was to not screw things up for the mission - Niijima’s feelings didn’t exactly matter much here. “Is there anything I should know? About the school and you, I mean. We, uh, my parents, I mean, enrolled me sort of on a whim.” He scratches the back of his neck.

She doesn’t seem to expect the question. He probably shouldn’t have added the indirect question about her, then. Although he was a little curious about her sister - they really did seem similar - he was self - aware enough to understand that maybe he should wait until Goro has dug up enough information. Then, possibly, he’d be able to satisfy his want to know more, without seeming any more suspicious than he already does at this moment. 

“Well, I’m not quite sure what to tell you.” Crossing her arms, she furrows her brow and looks to have lost interest in the conversation - if she had any invested to begin with. “Behavior is very important to Shujin’s image; stay away from rough crowds, don’t get yourself in trouble, the likes. With you being close with Akechi, though…” 

He has a slight feeling where she was going with that thought. “Ah, okay! Good to know, good to know. I met your sister recently, actually. She’s a little… intimidating, wouldn’t you say?” He channels a little bit of Goro’s television persona, a little bit of a charming lilt, a small smirk. With as much effort as he’s putting into it right now, he’s honestly pretty shocked when the look on Makoto’s face remains just as unimpressed as before. 

“I guess she can be overbearing, but she’s only extremely driven. Ambition is something you don’t see a lot of these days, I’d argue,” she tilts her head, as if begging him to disagree. Unfortunately, he sees her point.

The bell rings - is the lunch break over already? That sucked, hardcore. Akira wasn’t expecting to have to go back to class so soon after an uncomfortable conversation. Makoto was indeed an interesting discussion partner, but he found himself feeling grateful that they weren’t in the same year. ( He probably wouldn’t be coming to Shujin Academy much longer, anyways; he’d already been alive for more than a week, and he would typically turn back in a few more days. ) Goro, on the other hand, was in her year, and he might have to see her a lot more than he’d appreciate or enjoy. 

He finds himself wondering if they’d both unenroll as soon as the thing wore off - wouldn’t that be suspicious, as well? Even under the fake name Goro was using for himself ( half - assedly, might he add ) it would be pretty obvious that the Detective Prince himself had entered a school for no more than a week, alongside a friend with absolutely no record of their name except for the fake documents they had made, and then consequently left just as suddenly. Surely, they couldn’t have thought up a better plan?

He hurries back to class content with the fact that he had gotten absolutely no recon work done in the library. As the day goes on, the less he believes in Goro’s plan of sabotage from the inside. How exactly was he planning on making this work, again? The principal hadn’t seemed too concerned with them, himself, so how exactly were they going to get information - or whatever they were looking for - from anyone at Shujin? Akira doubts, very highly, that anyone here is ‘secretly working with Shido.’ That was pretty absurd, he thought.

Actually, the only tangible idea on his brain right now are the handfuls of topics he needs to talk with the detective about, as soon as possible. Not even just the whole mission situation, but the awkward air that’s been surrounding the two of them. There was no way they could go on ignoring it for much longer.

Afternoon - 4/21

Goro had assumed that the false name would be enough to avoid swarms of outsiders coming into Shujin - and, so far, the name ‘Isshiki Kogoro’ seemed to be serving that purpose. But only that purpose. The groups of girls at lunch, however, certainly seemed completely unphased by him attempting to convince them that he was, in fact, not Akechi Goro, although they looked quite identical. Obviously, his plan just needs a few more days before it kicks in, and starts to work correctly. He could feel Akira’s trust in his plan sinking, disintegrating. Of course, there probably wasn’t much to begin with - a plan based off of superstition and paranoia wasn’t going to be seen as logical in a third party’s eyes, even someone as Akira.

“Excuse me!” His hand twitches against his thigh. The voice, feminine, is still calling out to him as he feels their touch on his shoulder. “Akechi, I have an important question to ask you. Please listen to me.” Now, he sighs aloud, turning to face her. It’s Takamaki, which surprises him quite a bit. He hadn’t heard much of her voice in Kamoshida’s palace, but it had sounded strong, raspy - much more filled - with - emotion than it did right now. 

Shaking her hand off, he watches her eyes hit his. “What is it? Is your friend not here to indulge you?” His arms cross defensively, awaiting her question. “I presume Akira is available to answer wherever your curiosity is taking you.”

“No, Shiho’s not coming back for the rest of this semester.” Ah, that sucks, Goro thinks. “And it’s a little bit more of a personal question, for you. I assumed you’d be uncomfortable with me asking Akira behind your back.” She smirks, slightly, head and eyes tilted toward the ground. He pinches his finger; what kind of fucking question wasshe thinking about?

If she had thought asking Akira was beneath her, then it must be a little bit more than a ‘getting to know my new murderous metaverse teammate” questionnaire - although, those questions are sure to be a little pressing, of course, given the situation. “Ask, then, before I lose patience. I’m not guaranteeing you an answer, however.”

She doesn’t look defeated at the statement quirk. “What’s your real name?” Well, that was certainly much less than he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, but it was an easy enough question to bullshit through.

“Oh, is that it? Isshiki Kogoro.” He sounds as convincing as he could sound, he assures himself, for not using the name more than twice. It slipped his mind when talking to Shiho, on the rooftop, and he hadn’t had a chance to correct himself. By this point, he’s not quite sure if the mistake is even coverable at this point; she had referred to him by that name enough times, surely, that in her mind he couldn’t be called anything but. 

“I asked for your real name, Crow.” He finds it remarkably odd that she instantly went to calling him by his appointed metaverse name - which he would still argue was unneeded - especially since they had only gone into the palace together once. Was she even lucid when Akira offered the name as a suggestion? There was a slight possibility that she had thought that was his real name, but he quickly discarded that option. Takamaki seemed intelligent enough, for a young foreigner.

Goro shrugged, attempting a nonchalant attitude. “I’ve no idea what you are referring to, Takamaki. Akechi Goro is only a stage name I go by, to remain a small semblance of privacy to my personal life.” Ah, that was good!

“Oh, all right then.” He can almost hear Akira in his mind, calling out a loud ‘score!’ It seemed to have worked, for now, and Goro was content with that. “By the way, thanks for talking to Shiho yesterday. I feel bad that I wasn’t there in time.” Takamaki wipes at her eyes; he looks away politely. ( He might not like her all that much, but everyone deserved to be allowed to reserve a little portion of their dignity throughout their sadness. )

“It was no issue.” He decides to drop all pretenses, now; there was little fault, he thought, in showing the blonde his true feelings on the situation. “Shiho is wonderful - even I realised that in the short time I spoke with her, even in her vulnerable state. I can acknowledge that your friend is a very good person; it’s possible that she could be just as suited to the metaverse as you and Akira.” There wasn’t much evidence that base that claim off of - the part about Shiho, and the part about Takamaki being more than an okay addition to the ( Akira’s ) growing entourage. 

Her hands drop down, wringing and wringing. “That’s really nice of you to say, but I’m not sure I’d ever be okay with Shiho being involved in that insane world. Her getting hurt is easily one of my greatest fears, if not the greatest.” With a click of his tongue, her eyes are brought back up to his.

“I understand; maybe if Akira and I had known each other before… maybe I would understand your sentiments better.” He’s never thought about their arrangement in that way. If they had met earlier, before his father / employer had killed him, then maybe he really would’ve been a lot more hesitant, reluctant even, to introduce him to the metaverse. It was dangerous, not to mention that the effects of long - term, repeated use of the navigation system were completely, entirely unknown. “I wish to get to know that feeling better, Takamaki.”

That statement shocks him greatly, sending tremors through his hands that he has to purposefully clench his fists to deflect. After yesterday, it had been easy to assume that Akira hadn’t meant anything by the kiss; he was crying, he was exposed, he was at the mercy of Goro’s unintended kindness and closeness. Takamaki seems excited by it, as well, her eyes lighting up in a confused sort of manner. 

“I had thought that there was something going on between you two…” He decides to ignore that, for now. Just when he was starting to enjoy the conversation. “But, Isshiki, please call me Ann.” In that moment, he distinctly thought ‘absolutely not,’ but a second later he thinks it over again. Perhaps having another confidant wouldn’t be too awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally bought persona royal holy shit   
> i dont think ill put in any new elements? maybe some of the hangout spots


	9. ~Akira enters LeBlanc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup

Morning - 4/22

Akira wondered if he should be doing his school work. How much longer would he be going to Shujin, anyway? Was it even worth it to try? It might be, sure, but in all honesty, he’d much rather live in the metaverse than have to wear the stupid turtleneck for one more week. There was no school tomorrow, thankfully - Goro works, since he skipped out on it yesterday, but that was pretty much it. Maybe today he’d finally be able to go back to LeBlanc.

He didn’t even like coffee - not even a little bit. It was bitter, and when his parents used to leave a pot on the counter and he would grow too curious for his own good, it was tough to swallow the grounds. Occasionally, nowadays, he would take a small sip from the detective’s mug if he thought he could get away with it, yet he still gagged each time. How anyone could drink something like that eluded him. What he could really go for right now would be...well, actually, they may be right when they say you develop a taste for coffee; since as of now, Akira’s tongue tingles at the thought. Maybe if he drowned the beans in enough creamer.

“What’re you thinking about now?”

That’s a pretty loaded question, wouldn’t you say? Goro never much was the type to ask someone of their thoughts, yet it seems to roll out of his mouth, with his pointed gaze towards the ghost. He’s not really thinking about a lot at this moment, just about the rich scent of the coffee, placed on the table in front of his partner, and about how he’d never thought too hard over the fact that he was still very much dead. Especially when he came back to life, like this, it was hard to remember that he’d been murdered. Murdered? Was that the right term to use? Sometimes he liked to give the man the benefit of the doubt - perhaps he hadn’t meant to kill a teen boy with only hopes to do good. Perhaps it really had only been an accident.

“You~” he smirks, winking playfully. He never liked it when the conversation turned too serious. Even as the annoyance spread throughout a faint blush on Goro’s cheeks, Akira turned away, mulling his hands over the pockets of his jeans. The detective, seemingly finished with his morning cup, walks over to the sink - he’s probably ignoring the many different paths this conversation could take, focusing now on cleaning the stain from the mug. 

His phone goes off in the other room, and he almost drops the dish in his haste. Was it Shido? Akira worried - if it was, it was super fucking early to be making a murder call. Goro had work today, and the ghost wasn’t exactly in the mood to be killing anyone - deserved or not. It reminds him again, however, that they really should be looking into getting an extra phone for him to use when he can use one. For times other than that, maybe it could just be an extra phone for the detective? He hadn’t really thought it completely through.

Goro heads toward his bedroom, shoes hitting the ground as angrily and anxiously as Akira’s tapping fingers. Should he head out now? That sounded exactly, he thought, gathering himself up off the kitchen stool and looking for his light jacket. A second later, he stops in his tracks. What a stupid idea that was. If it was Shido calling, for a metaverse mission or a rant, Goro was going to need his shoulder either way. He was going to need his back - emotional support, he liked to think.

Instead of trying to listen in on the conversation, Akira sits on the leather couch. He likes this couch - the leather smells good, it’s rather soft for such a nice finish, and the old lady next store made sure to ask him each time he came over how Goro was liking it. It was sweet of her to think of him; getting furniture for your young neighbor wasn’t something a bunch of elders did. Elders didn’t normally assume two young men living together were - well - together, either. Tokyo was full of surprises. He missed the country, sometimes. Not often enough to say that he missed Inaba, but enough that he awoke from his sleep late last night, shaken by the sound of the passing automobiles. Subways were even worse, though he’d gotten pretty used to using those when following Goro from place to place.

“Ah, yes. I understand.” Akira can almost hear the detective rolling his eyes. Soon after, he sticks his head through the door frame, shaking his head at something the other person said. “Good for you, Niijima-san.” It was the older Niijima sister, then, that had called. Probably work - related, he figured. ( There was little chance Goro would stay on the call if it was anything but work - related, although that didn’t sound like the prosecutor to make personal calls. )

He hung up rather quickly after that, with not much to say as a goodbye. Akira wonders if Goro would just hang up on him, if he were to have a phone on which they could call. Would they ever have a reason to call? They get through the day just fine without the constant ability to communicate, so the only true advantage getting him a phone could possibly have is just decreasing the time it took to get news across. He’s reminded of the recent situation, with Shiho and the rooftop, and wonders if the detective would’ve texted him for assistance. 

“Have a good day, Akira.” At the confused look he apparently gives, Goro explains. “I’m leaving for work, now. Don’t make too big of a mess.” Hey! Did he look like someone that would be making a mess of someone else’s apartment? The answer to that was maybe.

Akira furrows his brows in a mock fashion of the recipient. “You too. Sure you don’t need an extra paper - weight on your desk?” It was much harder to sneak him into the police station when he wasn’t in ghost form, nearly impossible. Had they tried? Not exactly; Akira had followed him to work one day, about a block behind him the whole trip, only to be denied access into the office part of the building. He tried convincing the security staff that he was meant to be there - that he worked at a similar office downtown, but they had turned him away almost instantly. 

“Shut up,” with that, he closes the door behind him, not bothering to turn the key in the lock. Usually he did - but that was when he could phase through stuff like that, doors and such, and couldn’t lock it on his own. The apartments came with two sets of keys, so he always had one on him when he needed it - and could even use it.

Since there was no school today, Akira was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. Going to LeBlanc was first on his to - do list, as was heading to Akihabara to look around at the new Phoenix Ranger merchandise. He wasn’t exactly caught up on the series entirely yet, but he could probably convince Goro to put on the series at any point; there were rare opportunities for him to go shopping himself, pick his own items by himself. He didn’t really have the money, though, so maybe he’d have to find something he could purchase with the coins and lint he had rolling around in his jeans pocket. Getting a job would be pointless, with something of less than a week left of being alive. Being able to leech off of the detective for times like these was really quite nice. 

He gathers his things up, for real this time, heading out the door. Did he need anything else? Oh - how was he supposed to get coffee at the cafe if he didn’t have any money? The thought had his hand hesitating on the doorknob. Oh, whatever. It’s not like he would enjoy drinking it anyways. 

Morning - 4/22

This morning went much smoother than the last. They hadn’t gotten much chance to talk, though, due to the obnoxious phone call he had received from Niijima Sae. She only had called to reiterate just how important getting the task was to her. Half of him had forgotten about the request, in all actuality. The detective had much more pressing issues than how the older woman is carrying on with her career. Perhaps she had said something that intrigued him - about her contacting Shido herself and actually getting in touch with the man. Which was much more difficult than it might’ve sounded, and had shocked him quite a bit. 

He supposes Niijima could have been fibbing, just a little bit, to try and entice a rise out of him. It would appear to have worked, except that the longer he thinks about it, the more convinced he is that she absolutely could not be telling the truth. Would the prosecutor have contacted Shido? He didn’t doubt that very much; on the other hand, Shido responding, positively? It could not be envisioned, even.

“Good morning! Can I see your ticket?” He hands it over unthinkingly, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone, to check the time. Luckily, he has the time for a random ticket check. When trains got busy, they’d call passengers up to check their tickets - common procedure that rarely had any abnormal results. 

The train moves as he finds a seat near the front. It’s always busy, so he’s surprised to be able to sit down. Being able to have a moment to himself to think before heading to work - to put half of his efforts into filling out paperwork and the remaining half of his power to avoid his colleagues - was a simple pleasure he thoroughly enjoyed being awarded a few times a work week. Since he was supposed to work yesterday ( but didn’t come in ) he’d be at the office for a good couple hours longer than usual. That wasn’t much he minded, except the fact that Niijima - san called him earlier about being on the task force team. Was there an actual task force team? Absolutely not - that’s what made the situation all that more frustrating.

He’d like to tell himself that he would allow her to work alongside him, if there had been a team, for the mental shutdowns, for the psychotic breakdowns. However, it was probably best that there wasn’t a team on the case, tracking down signs that pointed to a culprit - when the culprit was himself. There was always a little bit of a disconnect with him and work because of that. How was he supposed to track down the ‘criminals’ related to the deaths if he knew exactly who was responsible for those exact deaths? He supposes it was better not to dwell on it.

The train hits a particularly raised part of the track, jolting the passengers, seated or standing. Briefly, he wonders if he should’ve taken some of that motion sickness medicine he keeps in his side drawer before leaving; it was one of those things that slipped your mind until the moment you direly needed it. Truly, he would be fine without it, but now that the thought has grazed his mind, each bump and twist of the train car is stirring his stomach, gathering in his throat.

Is it because of Niijima’s call? He highly doubts that - overthinking exactly what she said seemed to be on the track of becoming the theme of today. But, in case she was being truthful, ( pretty sure it was in her character to only be truthful ) maybe he should be taking it a little more seriously, instead of throwing it to the back of his mind, like a sticky note taped in a spot he’d rarely encounter. Definitely, he should be looking for any evidence that was backing up her claim. 

Work was for sure going to be a blast.

Noon - 4/22

Akira enjoyed his walk to LeBlanc cafe, truly, even if he had gotten a little bit lonely halfway through. Just the sight of his shadow alone, displayed upon the cobblestone, or the sound of his lone footsteps echoing throughout the empty alleyways made him frown the slightest bit. Even when he had been actually alive, he never grew much accustomed to the act of being totally and completely and entirely alone. It never sat right with him to have to be with his own thoughts, He’s always told himself that nobody really liked the feeling, the one of total isolation - yet he couldn’t shake off the notion that maybe some people did.

Why did that get to him so hard? Was it because a person that liked to be by themselves didn’t feel the pressure to perform for others, to pleasure others before themselves? Maybe it was because a person that liked the lack of dependency was a person who didn’t need Akira; Akira would become totally unnecessary in their eyes, the eyes of this hypothetical, independent human. That, again, was much more than he wanted to get into. Interdependency wasn’t a real issue when you were dead.

Although he was glad he was finally going to the cafe, he was slightly worried that Sakura - san would absolutely despise him. Why? He wasn’t usually as concerned with other people's perception of him - especially not some dude who manages a coffee shop, even though that life sounded cool as fuck. Akira wondered what he would’ve done as an adult, after he grew up - graduated, moved out of his parents - had he survived past his teenage years. 

With an arm wrapped around his torso, holding the warmth of his jacket against his body, the wind running through Yongen isn’t too very awful. The chill had never really bothered him, not the way it does Futaba or Goro. When he lived in Inaba, and he and Futaba hung out all day - year - round, all she would open her mouth to him outside in the winter months was to complain about her little limbs freezing off. Goro was much more manageable, in a way, considering that he never really hyperbolised all that much - the detective was far too in touch with his own reality to be making absurd complaints about it.

Akira thought about that often, but not as often as he would like to admit. Goro’s wellbeing was something that he worried over a lot - it was an important concern; was his friend taking care of himself? Most likely the answer was a definitive no, surely. He may be optimistic, even as a ghost, yet he still knew that the other most certainly did not put his health above anything else in his life. Work, the metaverse: both came first in a long list of responsibilities he had to fulfill. He only wished that he was able to lend him aid, just a teensy bit more. 

As he walked, passing a slightly familiar looking street with an entrance to some shady looking batting cages - he’d have to remember to stop by sometime, to dust of his long forgotten skills from being on the baseball team. It wasn’t too far from the cafe, either. Presuming that they start coming to LeBlanc on a regular basis, it could prove useful to utilise the surrounding resources, environmental affairs of the quiet town. God, he’s starting to sound like that biology teacher from his first day at Shujin. As much as he hated school, he couldn’t help but admit that the few classes he had taken recently were beginning to have an influence on him. He hated to think about how the people of the academy could be shaping his cognition, already.

The outside brick of the cafe greets him as he enters the thin, still alleyway, the texture evident even in the shine of the daylight. It was a strange atmosphere, surrounding the area; something still drew him in. The ghost had never been fond of coffee, nor curry, but Sakura - san’s establishment gave him some sense of… he wasn’t sure of what to call it, the feeling deep in his bones. Familiar to the rush he achieves when fighting alongside Goro in battle, yet not as headstrong; not as much adrenaline pumped through his veins when he smelled the spices and beans.

“Hello, how may I help you?” Greeting him with the sound of a bell was the owner himself. He still looked, and heard, just as gruff as when Akira had first ‘met’ him. He had a pot of coffee in his hands, pouring into a mug for the customer in front of him, assumingly. 

Akira sits, biting back a grin as he sees a recent recording of one of Goro’s interviews playing on the television, off to the side of the diner. He didn’t go to the filming of that one in particular, but he could remember vividly the expression on the detective’s face when he got back from it. 

Was he willing to choke back a coffee? “Can I get an Americano?” To get the man to like him - for sure. Oh, but, maybe he should’ve gotten a latte, or a cold brew like Goro does. He at least knew what to expect when it came to the taste of those drinks.

Sakura nods sharply in reply, turning back to the shelf behind him, full of dark coffee beans. He could’ve just gotten a bowl of curry, he realises - forcing himself to drink a fucking americano was probably the worst move he could’ve made in this situation. Although, he couldn’t disagree that a more mature and tasteful drinking palette was rather attractive. 

Speaking of attractive, the way his roommate had pulled on his blazer this morning, slowly onto his shoulders, shrugging it over his collarbones… Maybe this cafe was a little too hot, due in fact to the stove in the back, and the running coffee dripper, of course. The smell was awfully comforting, though, nice, he could acknowledge. He wondered for a moment if the owner would be too busy to hold a back - and - forth conversation with him right now. He’s not sure exactly what they would talk about, anyways, he just missed having a father figure, he thinks. Even when he had been alive, his father hadn’t quite been there as much as he should’ve been, not since Akira was young - young. 

It reassured him to think that Goro was in a similar position, despite the obvious differences in their childhoods, in how normal the ghost’s experiences seemed when compared to the detective’s. Both of his parents were still alive, they just didn’t interact with him like an ordinary family would. Goro, on the other hand, grew up in orphanage to orphanage, by himself, with the memory that his mother had grown too burdened with him to take care of her son and herself, and the idea that his father was a major dick that wanted nothing to do with him. When you really thought about it, with all the details and compassion necessary, then it was obvious why Goro was the way he was, why he went down the path he did. Was excluding himself from those events selfish?

“Here you go, kid,” Sakura gave him a quiet smile, one of a tired customer service worker. “Shout if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, sir.” The scent of the coffee washes over his face, and he’s sure that his body visibly relaxes. When he looks down, to reach his hand out and test his fate with a sip of whatever an Americano was, his palm hits a second dish, right beside the mug.

A plate of curry sits in front of him; hot and steaming and filled with beef. His eyebrow lifts in confusion - was this an accident? Even as he attempts to call Sakura over, to tell him he placed the curry in the wrong place, his stomach grumbles in protest, against his actions. He couldn’t just eat some random plate of food! If he really was as hungry as he felt, he should’ve eaten more at Goro’s apartment - he had definitely had time. Breakfast was super duper important, he knew that, but watching the other engulf a whole meal had taken the forefront of his attention. 

He waves his hand frantically, lifting from the bar stool slightly. “Ah, excuse me! I had only ordered the coffee…” Akira scratches the back of his neck, feeling pitifully awkward. Did Sakura think him rude?

The older man barely looks him in the eye before turning away. “Don’t mention it.”

He’s left with the plate of curry, now, and a stammer breaks through his lips. So, he had meant to leave the food? In stories, the nice restaurant owner only did that if the person they were serving looked like they absolutely needed it, desperately. Did he look that bad? He held in a chuckle, grasping onto the heat emitting from the cup with two hands. He couldn’t entirely doubt it, honestly. His friends didn’t mention it often - but he knew how he looked in his ghost, usual, state.

A fork on top of a napkin is slid his way, over the counter space. He sends a smile in Sakura’s general direction, lifting a mouthful up to his lips. Immediately, the spices burst on his tongue, the temperature only mildly tinging the roof of his mouth. Delicious. Akira thinks he’s never eaten anything better, anything as absolutely jaw droppingly tasteful; he thinks he might be drooling, and wipes the corner of his mouth with the napkin.

The television continues to drone on, with Goro’s pleasant voice answering long, drawn - out questions about his personal life. As expected, he never mentioned the ghost; of course, it wasn’t like he really could. To the rest of the world - those that knew him while he was alive - Kurusu Akira was very much dead. Even his own parents hadn’t questioned that, so there was no reason to create any unneeded conspiracies revolving around the Detective Prince, nothing like that. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he showed up in Inaba. Would anyone even remember him? He wasn’t even sure his ‘friends’ from back then would.

Futaba would - surely. They had been close, especially regarding the years leading up to her move, to her mother’s death. Yeah, she hadn’t made any attempt to contact him ( that he knew of ) but that didn’t mean she had completely forgotten about him. Would that have been such a bad thing, though? If he were to admit to being selfish, then yes, he would think it a very bad thing for his childhood best friend to completely forget about him as soon as he died. He really does miss her, a lot. Had there been any way to connect with her these days - in a heartbeat, he would try.

A bruise on his side throbs. Another thing he’s not quite sure he knows anything about: his injuries sustained in his murder. Going back to Sakura thinking him sickly - looking; is that really what he meant, Akira?; it was highly possible that he did look like absolute shit to the outside eye, but, mostly, he thought that was false. Weird looks were rather rare to him, for one reason or another. Goro mentions every now and again his appearance, of how the impact of his death still affected him physically, yet he failed each time to say exactly how. 

He supposed it didn’t actually matter. With how good the curry was, he allows himself to just turn his mind off, relish in the taste of the spice, the calming atmosphere of LeBlanc Cafe. He gets so wrapped up in the aroma that he almost forgets about the email he sent this morning, to Shiho and Ryuji. Since he didn’t have a phone, or a laptop, he had to sneak onto Goro’s - which wasn’t as hard as it probably should’ve been, as a detective. 

Although Shiho was taking a break from school for a while, she had replied quickly, agreeing to meet him at the cafe. Ryuji hadn’t answered before Goro woke up - he had to delete the emails, replies, and block both of their email addresses to avoid suspicion - so Akira wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to make it or not. Either way, he was sure Shiho had something to talk to him about from the conversation he had with Ann the other day. Mostly, he had only invited Ryuji so it didn’t look like a date. 

Sitting at the counter, taking smaller than possible sips was making him feel like one of those assholes in a movie. The guy who sat by the bar, fingers running through the condensation building on his beer bottle. For a second, Akira indulges in imagining himself as such a character - until the sound of the bell above the door kicks him out of his fantasies. A head of black hair, similar in texture and colour to his, appears between him and the glass.

“Akira, hey!” Shiho waves, the door closing behind her with a click. “What did you want to talk about?” She asks as she sits down. He moved to the booth nearest the big windows a few minutes ago, so they were sitting across from each other. Even in the low light, he noticed the deep circles set under her eyes, glossy and unfocusing. It was obvious she wasn’t doing well, hadn’t been sleeping, but there wasn’t much he could do about that in this moment, could he? 

He smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. “How are you feeling? Sorry for calling you out here on a Sunday,” Akira chuckles lightly. 

“How I’m doing doesn’t exactly matter right now, Akira - how are you doing? You didn’t give much detail in your email, but you sounded awfully urgent.” Shiho puts her hand out to him, laying the back of it flat on the table. He doesn’t hesitate to grab it, surprisingly. So much for Ryuji being here to provide a buffer. 

How was he doing? Other than a little stress forming, worrying about his and Goro’s relationship after his recent stunt, pulled carelessly at Shujin, no less - he feels that he’s doing pretty alright, considering. Surely, Shiho wasn’t asking for a real answer. Akira wasn’t sure he’d ever have a real answer to that question.

“I’m doing well.” The girl in front of him frowns at his response, and, oddly, he tries to backtrack. “I mean I’m relieved Kamoshida won’t be at the school any longer, to cause any more damage than he’s already done. Uh, I like it at Shujin, I think? If you really want to know, I think I’m probably not at my best at the moment - but I’m still doing fine! No worries there.” He rubs the back of his neck, deciding it would probably be for the best if he shut his mouth immediately. Never one for oversharing much, he always found it a huge shock when he found a person he couldn’t help but vent to.

The bell sounds again, and Akira feels a breath pass through him, slumping against the booth. It was Ryuji, this time, sporting an oversized purple jacket and a smirk. His hair seemed freshly bleached as well. A further investigation would uncover the way his nose crinkled up as he walked in, the smell of coffee hitting the doorway.

“Hey, guys! What’s bonkin’?” His huge brown eyes lit up at the sight of the two. If he was correct in his assumptions - mostly fueled by Goro’s rambling about suspicious characters at Shujin - Ryuji had gone to the same middle school as both Ann and Shiho, but he hadn’t been all too close with either of them. It was obvious that the two with him now were on good terms, thank god, because he had a question to ask and didn’t want to cause any rifts.

“Ah, it’s so good to see you, Sakamoto!” Shiho jumped at the opportunity to talk to another energetic spirit. “How have you been doing? Are you still doing track?” She stands from the bench, quickly giving the blond a hug before sitting back down, leaving room for the new comer to slide in. 

Akira lets them talk for a second, to catch up. They talk about Kamoshida’s tearful atonement at the school, about Ann’s change in recent behaviors. It makes him feel a little left out, to not have much to say in response to these topics; he hadn’t been involved for long enough to really, completely grasp the honest changes in the power balance at Shujin, but he was able to sense the differences in the tension that had swum around the students, thickly. 

“-Ira, Akira, did you hear the question?” It was Ryuji, leaning over the table to pull lightly at Akira’s bangs. “What’s the deal with your partner, dude?”

“Oh, uh, Goro - Kogoro, I mean?” He’s not quite sure how to respond to that, in all honesty. “Sorry if he’s a little intense sometimes, I don’t think he realises it. He works with the police, so you’ve probably seen how he is on tv.”

“For real?” Ryuji seems astounded, scratching the back of his neck. “He doesn’t seem like the popular type - no offense!” He can’t exactly blame him for thinking that; Goro wasn’t a super personable person, in reality, but usually his acting concealed enough of his true personality for society’s standards. It wasn’t at all surprising that Ryuji didn’t much like the detective.

“Eh, I think the same,” Akira laughs, despite the blond’s apparent apols. “But past his moodiness, he’s a pretty nice dude.”

Shiho nods, waving a hand through the air as she agrees. “Ah, I understand!” They both look to Ryuji, who seems to be put into an inner conflict at the moment. It seems obvious that he doesn’t exactly love the detective, and yet he’s listening to the others compliment him without much verbal disagreement. “Really, he seems like such a nice person; I’m glad you have someone like that who loves you, Akira.”

What was with that misinterpretation? It was almost daily that someone assumed the two of them were involved in some sort of romantic pretense. It was just a little awkward - to either completely deny the assumption, or to pretend they didn’t say it - whenever it happened.

“W-well that’s really nice of you to say, Shiho, thank you.” He guesses? It isn’t exactly clear how he’s supposed to respond to stuff like that. It made him feel warm, though, so he supposed it was a good thing to hear.

The reason he brought them here, in reality, was actually to discuss Goro. Not like this, though. Akira had been thinking more of a relationship advice sort of meet - up. The awkwardness between the pair, stemming from the events two days ago, had grown almost too awful to bear. He had been hoping, in some idiotic part of his brain, that the two closest to him with a pre - existing perspective into his and Goro’s friendship would have some sort of introspection that would prove helpful to the ghost. 

It was strangely relieving, however, to note that they had rather opposite views on the same guy. Ryuji and Shiho, while they both agreed that Goro was a solid dude, slightly disagreed on points beyond his outward character. It doesn’t take much mental power to realise that that’s probably due in fact to the blond’s knowledge of the detective’s prior… activities. 

“So, uh, speaking of… that: Shiho, do you think he likes me - like that?” Akira presumes that it seems like a bit of a redundant question, judging by the both of their expressions. “Because, well, I kissed him a few days ago and we haven’t spoken about it since.”

“But you guys are still talking?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pauses to pick at a hangnail. “Just pointedly avoiding that topic.” Just as he wishes he had avoided this; in all actuality, this was entirely unnecessary. By this point, Akira was half sure of his choices, and the path he wanted to take going forward, so calling these two to LeBlanc was a little of an odd decision. Did he regret it? That was dependent on the outcome.

Ryuji butts in now, seemingly deciding that he was done pretending to be grossed out by the acknowledgement of romantic feelings and issues. “Dude, there’s literally no way he isn’t interested in you. Like, have you seen the way he watches you fight?”

“Fight?” Shiho looks appalled, concerned. “Akira, have you been getting into fights, and didn’t tell me?” Ah, it seems more of that concern turned into engrossment, slight disbelief in not being included.

“No, no nothing like that!” Akira immediately tries reflecting the route the conversation was driving down. “He means, uh, metaphorically. ‘Cause at my old school I was on the debate team!” That was good, right? Probably not, honestly. 

Ryuji nodded enthusiastically, knocking his foot against Akira’s under the table as reconciliation for almost uncovering such a secret. “For real! He’s a god.” There’s an air between where his words land and Shiho’s cognition. 

Soon, she turns to Sojiro and orders a hot chocolate for herself. When the blond is sure she’s focused in the opposite direction, he looks back to Akira.

“Anyways - man, that dude is into you. Besides all that shit y’all were talking about at the beginning of the Kamoshida infiltration, about being murderers or something, he seems chill.” Ryuji wipes a palm along the thigh of his jeans, glancing back at the girl with them, still at the bar. Well, Akira supposes, that settles it.

Evening - 4/22

He was right - work was utterly dreadful. Positively, the sole thought that got him through the day was about the weather: it was remarkably nice today, winter chill mostly gone, and he had been in the right mood for a run all week. Not a metaverse one - not this time, not today. Today, he was planning on a run in the park, Inokashira. It wasn’t too far a train ride away, and usually it was fairly empty, void of obnoxious teenagers grouping. He’d have to finish his tasks for today, of course, but when his hours hit zero for the day, he swore he was out of there. Even if he felt he had more to do - they weren’t going to pay him for all of his extra hours. They barely even paid him as is, now.

For a moment, he wonders about Akira. Recently, the ghost had been mentioning a desire to seek out the cafe Niijima - san had taken him to that while ago, the place Morgana had led them to. Yongen - Jaya wasn’t a town he traversed often, so the change in scenery had been nice. Perhaps he’d be able to meet up with the other directly from LeBlanc; surely that would be well appreciated, right? In addition, he had collected some information during a period of some downtime at work that Akira might be interested in. Not that he had gone through the trouble to specifically hand it to him, as a kind gesture - no, not at all. What had really gone through his head at the time, while doing the work, was the curiously bubbling inside his own self, the wonder at exactly what this data could unfold, unravel.

His departure from the office, towards the station, went rather smoothly. Minimal distractions, a few strangers stepping on the backs of his shoes, and a handful of fans recognising him; all in all, though, he would consider that pretty accomplished. It wasn’t everyday he got to take the stroll by himself, in his own thoughts, for a majority of the time. The train ride was the same as it had always been, of course - the only difference being that he got off at his stop a little later, in Yongen.

Backstreets were never his favourite place to be, to walk through. Bad memories associated with narrow passageways, areas of the night, like. His mother had never understood that - leaving him in the back of an alleyway while she talked to some shady figure behind the furthest dumpster. What were they talking about, during the hours he cowered in the shadows, beneath the weight of the moon? He was never much inclined to try and listen in. When he did, he only heard hushed words about debt, and stupid adult stuff like that.

Sometimes he wonders if he might’ve been able to prevent her total collapse if he had just listened, had known all that was weighing on her.

The cafe is still lit, despite the absence of light in the surrounding environment. If he really didn’t have the luck he so deserved today, then he was sure Akira wouldn’t even be here. Who spends all day at some back alley coffee shop? Especially when he didn’t enjoy coffee, not at all. Occasionally, when he was first trying to become a real detective - as of now he’s only in this consultation job as a result of his father’s influence, not because of his skills - he would sit for hours at the counter of whatever all day shoppe was nearby, studying and writing and trying. There wasn’t much point to that anymore, though.

A bell above the door rings, signaling his hesitant entrance. It still looks just as it did the other time he was here - empty and dim. The low light was oddly reassuring, however, it served a great deal of purpose making Akira’s skin appear even more purple - ing than it usually did. As the ghost nursed a cup of extremely light coffee, more creamer than actual drink it seemed, he turned and smiled happily to the detective. It was the brightest thing in the whole cafe, in the whole of Yongen, he thought as fact.

In the back, Sakura - san was occupied with washing a sink full of dishes. He was probably planning on closing soon. Had Akira been here since the morning? How awfully boring that must have been; the thought erases from his mind the minute after it crosses it - hardly anything relating to the ghost could possibly ever be considered boring. It was a ridiculous sentiment, to say the least. Here the other sat, for a great many hours most likely, currently sipping on a cup of creamer, with a tad splash of coffee, that looked to have gone cold this morning. Goro has to hold in a small chuckle, turns it into a cough. He’d get Akira to acquire a taste for caffeine in time enough, soon. 

“Goro!” He raises a hand to run it through his messy locks, grey eyes watching the detective’s long legs fold onto a stool beside him. “Did you get off work early?” He supposes he did, actually, although he hadn’t exactly been watching the clock. Perhaps, since he hadn’t gone to work yesterday as he should have, he should’ve worked longer today to make up for it. It’s not like it really mattered, in the long run; he wouldn’t be around for too long, to care enough about his teenage career.

He withstands the pull of desire to run his fingers through Akira’s hair as well. “Yeah, I didn’t have as much to do today as I originally thought.” The owner seems to notice him now, by the distant sound of his voice.

“What, Niijima isn’t dragging you around anymore?” The older man barks, running a dish towel along the inside of a bowl. “I would’ve thought she was convinced you were the opening she needed to get into my business.” Now that got him curious; although the cafe owner seemed a person not often coerced into sharing personal details, Goro was wondering of his mention of his colleague. Did she have a lead on him? What could she possibly be trying to pin him for?

Akira makes a conflicted sound, pulling a strand of his bangs between his fingers. “I told you he’s not that kind of cop already, Sojiro! He just likes coffee, that’s all.” It seemed, perhaps, that they had had this discussion before, earlier in the day. Now, while Goro wasn’t sure what Niijima found so condemning in the man’s life, so persistent in her job as a prosecutor. He starts wondering for the real reason she brought him the first time - there were much closer coffee shops, to the office, that he knew she frequented.

“I’m just teasing, kid. Seriously, I’ve got nothing to hide, but if that woman keeps sticking her nose in my face I’m going to have to make some complaints.” He runs a hand over his apron, then leans against the counter separating the two from him. “Can I get you anything?”

His mood’s entirely changed, yet it’s still not up to the customer service tone he had adopted last time. Goro knew all too well the things a person changed about themselves, to suit the public eye, a positive perception in fan’s minds. “The house blend, thank you kindly.” 

If he were to ask Akira, the best he could be described would be mercurial - assuming that was even in his vocabulary. It’s the intention of it all, he supposes. Pretending to be someone you’re not for the majority of the hour tended to do that to you. Cynical, bitter, ignoble - all terms that would align with a person like that. Luckily, it would appear that Goro had narrowly avoided each of those adjectives, thankfully.

Goro settles into the chair more, his wandering eyes alighting to a scratch in the wood of the bathroom door. The coffee was good, just as it was the last time. He didn’t much like sweeter blends such as that one, but it was just what he needed to set his brain off of work, to relax. As much as he wanted to go home and watch some tv, maybe actually cook dinner for once with Akira, he would rather head to the park before it got dark. Preferably soon, too.

“How would you feel about a run, Akira?”

The other boy in question raised his eyes, level with Goro’s, and stretched his arms above his head.

“I thought you would never ask.”

Perfect - for a second he had wondered if his roommate would decline. Now, he realises that was kind of a dumb thought. For what would Akira turn down a trip to the park? The ghost, only a few weeks prior, had been begging him, almost everyday, for him to take him to Inokashira. The light air, pleasant smell, clean sidewalks; Goro was almost completely sure that he would’ve dragged the other boy along with him anyways, regardless of his response. However, lately, he has been making a true attempt to take other’s feelings into account before deciding things. Because apparently that really mattered to some people.

It did make him feel good to watch the smile erupt on the younger’s face when he realised that they’d be able to hang out and do something fun - in the real world - for the first time in a while. (Surely they couldn’t count murdering people in the metaverse as a fun, bonding activity between friends.) Goro hadn’t exactly been planning on doing much in the city this week, except for the run, but maybe if this went well they could go to Jazz Jin in Kichijoji at the end of the work week. 

“We're almost there?” The train was moving pretty slow, to be honest. They’d stopped at more stations then they usually did on a trip to the park - he was sure of it. The universe must know that Goro was using this as an attempt to disperse some of the tension swarming the pair. 

Goro shrugged, watching an elderly couple argue over the economic state of Japan in the seats in front of him. He didn’t really care about giving him an answer. They’d be there when they were there, is what his mother used to say when he’d have to walk with her for miles, to whichever part time job she had picked up that night. Akira wasn’t much different to how he was as a child - that was strangely comforting, when he really thought about it. For some reason.

He scrolled through his phone as the train sped on, and they sat in relative silence for the rest of it. Much to his gratitude, the man and woman - still arguing - didn’t get off at the same stop. A few times, Akira tried starting a conversation before tripping on his words and trailing off, sentence unfinished. He looked up each time, locking eyes with the ghost as he stumbled with his diction, without the slightest clue as to what he was trying to go on about. This happened occasionally, but Goro tried to be as patient as he could every time.

But, now, it seemed Akira had stopped trying to vocalise what he was thinking of, so Goro kept an ear open for when he tried again, but looked back to his phone. This train ride was going to take much longer than he thought, glancing up at the clock on the wall in front of him. It was going to go dark soon - he wasn’t planning on them running for long - and it was going to be even darker when they took the train back to the apartment. That wasn’t too big of an issue, he supposed, as long as they started to head back before the sun fully sank into the horizon. 

For now, he let Akira lean his unruly head against the shoulder of his coat, tugging on the cuff in his half - asleep haze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted the park to be in this chapter but it was getting a little long :((
> 
> futaba in next tho (maybe) lolol im so tired sry


	10. futaba comes in at the end i promise

Evening - 4/22

Akira wasn’t allowed to sleep for long, the train coming to a complete stop at Inokashira Park’s station. He flushes a little when he realises his head had fallen onto Goro’s chest; not to mention the fact that he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. The day hadn’t been too long, he thought, though the talk with Ryuji and Shiho must’ve taken more out of them then he had noted. The detective had stayed upright the entire ride, thankfully, and only shook Akira gently for a few seconds to get him up.

“You ready?” His voice is uncharastically soft, and he finds myself nodding tiredly to it in reply. At this point, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to walk off of the train, much less take a lap around the park. Wishing the sky was a little bit darker, so they could watch the stars, they stepped out of the station. 

Smiling - he finds himself wondering if Goro’s skin always reflects the dusk like so - and reluctantly steps away from the warmth of the other. A speck of remaining sunlight glistens in his eyes, a paragon of a star. Akira wills himself to look away, to focus on whichever way they were beginning to walk. 

The park was relatively void of others - at the main entrance, at least. There were bound to be much more people, deeper into the trees, scattered around on park benches; but it was obvious that, for now, they were alone together. It felt nice, almost as nice as the slight breeze that pricked the back of his neck, and the ease in which Goro slid closer to him. His hand - ever so gently - brushes against his own, like a butterfly landing on a flower petal. The detective brings his hand away.

Akira decides to challenge Goro, giving him a light - hearted smirk. “Didn’t you say something about a run?” His arms swish through the air, as if the rest of his body was moving at top speed. “No way this is the fastest you can go.” 

Goro tugs his glove down his palm, the leather pulling at his fingers. “Is that how you’re going to be? Oh, it’s on.” There’s a charged second between the rise of his words and the sound of their shoes hitting the rock path. Akira can practically smell the competitive nature that Goro’s succumbing to with each inch he gains ahead. 

Instead of a run, it’s a race - a rivalry, a strife, a war - that they both know could never be fulfilled in the real world; Akira and Goro exist in a stronger sense, tied to the cognition of the public, more powerful and a higher octane rating than any chemical that could subsist out of Earth. Even without the power the metaverse supplies them, the ghost and the detective still remain with as much vigor and potency as a steel train car - a megatsunami, a gravitational force that could move the moon. 

Speaking of, by the time Akira has tripped over his own worn shoes, denying that he’s reached his worldly limit, they’re at least to the other side of the park. They’re breathing is heavy, warm and louder than any other sounds nearby. Besides the occasional screech of an owl, or the distant roar of a car on the highways, their ears are only susceptible to the rapid pattern of panting, gradually slowing down. He holds his knees in his hands for a brief movement, sneaking a glance up to Goro, who’s stretching his arms above his head. The pale expanse of his underarms, smooth yet bulging with defined muscle, matches the same softness of the detective’s neck, ears. 

He thinks he’s ripped a hole in his shoe - it might’ve been there already, though. “I think I tore my shoe,” he tells Goro out loud, this time instead of thinking it. “Still, I definitely reached this tree before you did.” The tree in reference, a cedar or a pine or an oak ( is there a big enough difference for Akira to be able to tell? ) is the one he’s leaning against, twisted around a bench and bleeding strips of bark onto the leaf covered floor. 

Goro guffaws, tossing his head down to look at Akira. He probably looks rather pitiful, all of his weight pressed into the trunk. “You are ridiculously wrong, Akira. Indeed, you were on the ground first, but I reached it first.” Lowering onto the toes of his feet, squatting down to look the younger boy straight in the eye. There’s a challenge speaking through his expression - he’s not sure that if he were to open his mouth it would be an answer Goro was looking for. If he were to open his mouth, to put that bit of trust into his tongue, surely he would answer some unspoken question that Goro’s not asking - ignorant of the dare in the air.

Akira took a shaky breath, still lightheaded from the run. Was the dizziness solely from the run, though? At this point he couldn’t be sure. “I - uh.” It was possible that the detective had been faster, reached the end faster, but it was unlike him to admit it so easily. “No.” He puts as much love into his voice as he can manage, tiredly.

Earning another laugh, Akira sits up straighter against the tree. Goro leans much more forward, putting a hand against the foundation of the plant besides Akira’s head. “No?” The amusement in his voice is thick - probably just as thick as the knot forming in the ghost’s throat. He leans in further.

Morning - 4/23

“Have you seen my socks?” He’s rummaging through the pillows on the couch, disordered up from his slumber the night before. His noticeably bare feet twist into the rug on the wooden floor, anxious and busy.

Goro glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Why would I have seen your socks?” Is he serious? There’s a whole drawer of clean socks without holes in them just beyond the door to his bedroom. “Just grab a pair of mine.”

“But I washed them ‘specially for today! They were literally just right here-” Akira throws his hands up into the air, staring up at the ceiling. Dramatically, he falls back onto the carpet, the top of his head touching the ground, back arched. Within that position, it’s obvious that he has a clear view of the underside of the television cabinet. “Oh, nevermind!” 

He stifled a groan, using the time it takes Akira to grab his socks from the dust void that is under any furnishing in his apartment to pull on his own shoes. Was today going to be a long day? Obviously; every day since the end of January had been full of plights after plight, impediment after impediment, all due mostly in fact - with all blame allotted correctly - because of Akira. The ghost was nothing but troublesome, even to his own self.

Making the mistake of looking back to the younger boy, who seems to be picking at an unraveling string from his left sock, sends him back into mild - frustration? If the emotion were to be applied to anyone besides the detective, surely they would interpret it as adoration, or something equally as fond, towards Akira. 

He audibly groans this time, cupping the front of his face with his hands. Unbearable. 

Evening - 4/22

Akira’s eyes were the size of the moon, up this close, almost nose to nose. It takes the breath he’s been building up in his lungs away, stocking up as he cooled from the race the ghost swore he had beat him in. Obviously that was dead wrong; the Prince Detective ( even the second - coming one ) never lost anything to measly problem children. 

A second, a moment of still, until he moves forward, more onto the tips of his toes - it was only more comfortable, squatting as he is, and it’s not like he could’ve looked Akira in the eye from where he was standing, not with the ghost’s head angled down in his slump. By anyone’s standards, they must be much too close to be normal in such a casual situation; but it doesn’t quite seem that way, as Akira’s long eyelashes flutter shut above his cheekbones. Goro’s arm was still encaging him to the right; he didn’t have the strength to tear himself away.

There's a heated breath upon his lips, mingling with his. He allows his eyes to close, to drop all pretenses, his lips to part. A soft touch lingers at his jaw - not hesitant, but careful, skeptic - until it’s slowly pulled away; they’re close enough that when Akira opens his eyes again, he can hear the sharp click of it. 

Akira speaks with a lilt, like he’s still pressed against the detective. “We should talk.” - is all he says, convincing Goro to sit up, just a little, onto the soles of his feet with his knees to his chest. He must look awfully confused, or frustrated, or some obscene combination of the two. A mind - splitting thought occurred to him, now: where had they been going with that.

“Talk? What do you mean talk?” By his calculations, they had been talking all night; had they not? Sure, the most talking they had done was only short syllables during the run, mostly about wanting to tear each other’s limbs off so the winner was secured in his victory; which, the winner would be Akechi Goro, indisputably. 

It’s less than a grimace, but Akira still shifts upward, against the tree. Goro can’t tell if he’s uncomfortable or simply getting into position to speak. “Uh - talk about, you know.” No, he’s not quite sure he knows. Could it be that he had put it all together - that the man who had shoved him into the street for doing the right thing, also being Goro’s boss. ( father )

He laughs inwardly, tossing his head to the side; there’s a frog or a toad or something sitting on the bench a few feet away from them. “Please, do explain.” The frog hops off, into the mud. 

“I didn’t mean to - I - sorry for kissing you.” His voice is soft, light when he falls onto the detective’s ears. Speaking of it seems to be of great difficulty - was this what he was trying to bring up, to discuss on the train?

Goro lets himself show his confusion, just this once, aloud. “I - what?”

The rays of the sun have long since fallen silent around them, sloping into the hills, to burn somewhere opposite Japan. Even though the air has slightly chilled, he has never felt warmer. His heart pounds. What a useless thing to get worked up about; Akira, for any odd reason, seems to have convinced himself that the other boy required an apology, an explanation. Wasn’t the avoidance explanation enough? Since they hadn’t talked about it, in the last two days from the point of its occurrence, Goro had quickly assumed that there was just not going to be any words spoken about it. He hadn’t exactly cared either way - he had told himself to not let it affect him.

“I don’t understand; what are you sorry for? The situation was lawless, surely you do not blame yourself for any of the ways the week has gone.” He resists the urge to cup the other boy’s face. “Truely, it’s completely fine, Akira, so I’m not sure why you’re so distraught over this.” Was that the right thing to say? It was possible that his words could be interpreted as undermining the ghost’s emotions, his feelings on the subject, by saying he didn’t think it was a big deal - that it was nothing to get worked up over. 

Akira sags even further down, if at all possible, his legs sliding in between Goro’s feet. It’s an odd posture, and it doesn’t seem comfortable in the slightest. He looks over at the bench again - the frog is still gone. They could sit on the bench, if the other boy would prefer. It had to be a dozen times more comfortable than sitting in what’s surely a pile of dead leaves and mud under his thighs, sticking to his pants. Goro shudders of the thought - it had rained recently as well, so who knew exactly how messed up the ground was today.

“That’s the whole reason I’m apologising!” Akira doesn’t sound mad, but his voice is raised. “It was stupid, I was being stupid; I feel bad because of it, but we haven’t been talking about it, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get a chance to say sorry.” He’s distinctly made aware of the fact that they’re still not completely addressing the issue - Akira neglects to mention exactly what he had done that was supposed to offend Goro oh - so - very - much, but he had connected enough dots to understand that the ‘kiss,’ which the other had stated in his original apology, was the heinous act the ghost performed. 

Honestly, he’s trying not to show any misinterpreted anger right now. Not that he’s angry, oh no, it’s only that he’s attempting to conceal the smallest bit of hurt that laces the edges of his skin while Akira’s basically saying he regretted the small act of showing the detective affection. Had it meant much at all to Goro? He couldn’t exactly be sure; he hadn’t thought much about it since it happened, but now that he’s allowing his mind to settle into a space where - if he was a normal human being - he’s letting his long ignored feelings harbor and fester in the forefront of his thoughts. 

Did he like Akira like that? Was it mutual - given a situation in which the first question was answered with a yes? It’s like poison - in a good way, it feels - trying to admit to his deeper ardors in a methodical order, dissolving the skin of his throat until he’s not sure if he can speak anything but the obnoxious truth, at this point. 

“Alright, I suppose I forgive you.” He earns a half smile at that, slightly stilted and slightly faked. “It’s getting dark.” Goro is overcome with the need to hit something; he’s not sure what exactly he wants in that regard, either. 

Akira nods, or at least the detective thinks he nods, because soon they’re both standing and on the last train leaving out of the station for the day and back in the apartment. He’s not sure of anything, really - he doesn’t know if his thoughts are his own; either way, his brain hopes for tomorrow to be better, and for the ghost to at least reconsider his shame. 

Morning - 4/23

After Akira had found his socks, and they had rushed out of the door to get to the station in time, they finally had the chance to take a breath. Their run yesterday, surely, was enough of an intensity for a week, at least. Even with the breakfast they had at the apartment this morning, the ghost still found himself craving a soda, something sugary - bubbly, caffeinated, bad for him. Maybe even coffee - just so he could attempt to choke it down. Did that even make sense?

“What are you thinking about?” It seems to be Goro’s favourite question, nowadays. 

Akira shrugs, looking mournfully at the vending machine, stocked with sweet carbonated drinks. “Why don’t you take a guess”

“Well, why would I ever want to do that? I know you, Akira, and I know that your brain works a steady a - thousand kilometers a minute.”

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking about. My brain doesn’t even work this early in the morning.”

Goro opens his mouth to reply, most likely with some hardass response - that Akira’s brain never functions as it should, including right after he wakes - but a quick side glance to the left stops his train of thought. “Niijima - how is everything?” 

“Akechi. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Her braid is perfectly in place, even as the rest of her hair bobs with her speaking. Even with her eyes slightly skewed by the sun, Akira can see the total wish for annihilation in her glare.

“What do you mean by that?” It’s less than a nervous chuckle, but he looks over to Akira with an uncharacteristically anxious cloud over his face. “There are classes today, aren't there?”

Makoto fidgets with the hem of her shirt before answering. “No, of course there are. I was referring to your work with the police. There’s a big case, one that you’re heading within the department, correct? I had only thought you were going to be working with the investigative team, along with my sister today. After all, didn’t she get her position on the team thanks to you?” Ah, that was cruel. 

She knew exactly what to say to get under Goro’s skin, it seemed. It would appear that Akira had a lot that he could learn from her. He almost laughs at that, but the mild panic settling into the detective’s bones sends him into consternation. This case means so much to Goro, he knows that very well, so for Makoto to walk over and promulgate that he’s been forced out of a sudden decision excluding him was absolutely the cruelest thing she could’ve done. Especially this early in the morning!

“Ah,” his throat sounds wet, choked. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, I guess.” Akira assumed he’s plotting more than a few murders in his head as he speaks. “And I don’t exactly lead the case, no, not in that way.” 

He wasn’t being modest, though it was true that Goro assumed a rather big role on the team. Directly underneath Shido, he had front row seats to the nepotism and bias that constitutes the Japanese police force. As much as he’d loved to believe that his friend could single - handedly take down the injustice in the system, he knew he’d have to stick for the other, only solving the cases that he creates, causes. Hunting yourself is an odd tactic that he’s only ever seen Goro utilise. 

Makoto looks away, seeming mildly comforted. She must care an awful lot for her sister, and hate the younger detective to the same caliber yet opposite. “You should be getting to class now. Farewell.”

Goro moves like a rat biting his own tail off after the student president walks away - which is to say it is extremely painful to watch. Constantly fidgeting with the button near his tie as if self conscious because of the way the fabric falls, but probably mostly because of the absolute power bomb the other had dropped onto him. For real - it was like a nuclear explosion, if he knew what that looked like. Makoto threw an almighty attack, straight to Goro’s weakness: inferiority. And if anyone could ignite that feeling in him, it would be a Niijima. 

“Don’t listen to her; I bet she just misinterpreted something her sister said, something like that.” Akira’s only option at this point was to try and console him, although it probably wouldn’t prove to be very effective.

Sure enough, Goro stops in his tracks, turning to face the other boy with a burning anger in his eyes. “Don’t fucking patronise me.”

Not much else was said while they walked to their respective classrooms.

Noon - 4/23

Akira had already been done with school before even sitting down. From his vantage behind Ann, he could scope out the rest of the students in his homeroom, at least. A few of them had made it a point to introduce themselves to him when he had first arrived, but hadn’t spoken a single word to him since. He found it kind of ironic, actually, that sometimes it seemed as if he were even more invisible when he wasn’t technically dead. That always made it harder, though, when he finally did shift back.

He had been expecting it for a few days now - it never usually lasted this long. His biggest theory was that because they had taken down Kamoshida using ‘moral’ methods, they had made a bigger impact on the public’s cognition and, in turn, allowed Akira to exist more permanently for longer. It still kind of sucked when the teacher completely ignored his hand raised, in question.

To everyone else, it probably seems like he had gotten up and somehow left the room without any of them noticing. Pulling himself out of a class with Chouno would’ve been the greatest feat he’d ever accomplished, and he almost wished he had thought to do that before - when the tingling of his limbs was just beginning to grow bothersome and the itch in the back of his skull had become too intense to simply wiggle out. 

A small part of him was glad, actually, to be rid of such worldly pains as walking and responsibilities. His only regret, being that he wasn’t exactly open to admit it, hid in his heart: they hadn’t hugged in reality, and it wasn’t the same in the metaverse. The little touches, letting fall asleep on his shoulder, not moving away immediately when the backs of their hands grazed the other. Overall, though, he’d say the experiences this time around were enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t quite sure of anything that all meant - however, he was well aware that the effects would carry through to his time as a ghost, for sure.

“A-Akira?” There’s a hushed, yet panicked, voice calling out to him from just a few feet in front of him. By his knowledge, class had dismissed during the moment he was thinking deeply, and Ann had become shocked at his change in appearance. “What is going on?”

She has the sensibility to talk in an extremely low voice, but he really did wish he could hear her over the rush of blood leaving his head. “Oh, uh, I’m just dead again. It’s normal! Happens after I’m alive for too long.” He owed her a real explanation, after they escaped from the crowded classroom.

Ann blinks, face uncharacteristically blank. “Ah, ok. I suppose that makes sense.” Was she even aware that he had technically died, a few months ago? Crap; that was going to be a fun story to tell. “So, anyways, do you want to hang out today? Defeating Kamoshida has left me with an awful lot of anxious energy, so I was wondering if you’d be up to indulge me for a day.”

“Yeah, sure, that actually sounds great. What are you thinking about?” Akira puts his hands in his pockets, slouches down a bit more now that he knows she’s comfortable in his presence. 

She sort of shrugs, keeping her eye on a nearby classmate. They couldn’t forget that the ghost was pretty much non - existent to everyone without a magic pass to all things metaverse. “Eh, I don’t think I really have anything in mind. Whatever you were planning on doing today would be cool to tag along, I guess. I just kind of want some company, is all.” For all it was worth, he made a mental note to invite her out to do something planned that she would definitely enjoy sometime in the near future. He could never be sure when he’d be able to do normal people stuff again, but whenever that was he’d have to leave his schedule open for Ann.

Fast friends, it seemed, although Akira didn’t have much of his own experience with that. He couldn’t complain, though, when the blonde talked just as enthusiastically as him on the train to Yongen. The destination was the first he had in mind, after all, because of some unfinished business that he hadn’t gotten around to. That, probably, hurt the most about being dead. Not being able to complete a task or do something whenever you felt like doing it - it gave him a sense of finality, about the time allotted to an individual on earth, that he hadn’t had a clear perspective on before he was murdered. 

“Do you live here, Yongen - Jaya?” Ann tries to wrap her arm around Akira’s elbow as they head out of their train car, before realising that her skin was just going through his. She clears her throat to hide a giggle. They’re walking into a back alley, one that looked slightly familiar to the ghost from the other day.

He remembers she had asked a question and shakes his head “Nope, we live in Shibuya - the residential district just off of Central Street. It’s a little louder there than it is in my hometown, but I appreciate Goro letting me stay with him.”

Ann pushes her tongue up against her cheek in thought. “So, you two really do live together?” She looks around once more; Akira might be imagining it but it seems as if she’s nodding her head to the sound of the radio on some apartment balcony. “What are we doing here, then?” 

“I think there’s someone here that can help me find an old friend.” They’re close to LeBlanc now, yet he slows his pace and she follows. “We knew each other when we were younger - we had gotten separated, like, two years before I died? I don’t even know if she knows about me, yet, actually, but I miss her and don’t want her to think that I just stopped caring about her.” There was so much more that he could get into, talking about all his regrets and unfinished business; especially about Futaba, probably one of the only people that he ever thought about saying a proper goodbye to. His own parents hadn’t made the list, yet Wakaba had. 

Ann leads with a small smile, pushing her hair behind her shoulder as she slows their speed even more. He wishes he could toss an arm around her, maybe ask if he could braid her hair. Ah, if they ever do a mementos run again with the all of them, he’d definitely have to convince the others to let him do their hair. Ryuji didn’t have much on his head for Akira to toy with, but Goro and Ann had more than enough for a french tail or two. 

“I’m sure she misses you greatly.” Akira explains the full situation, now, with Sojiro and Futaba’s mother and her uncle and Akira’s death - they’ve fully stopped moving now, and with no one else around they’re free to talk freely about their friends. “How are you planning on getting Sojiro to tell you where she is? From what you said it sounds like it’s going to be pretty difficult.” 

That was a fantastic question, one that he had absolutely no answer for. His - barely - formulated idea in his head consisted of walking into LeBlanc and simply telling the man that he wanted to see Futaba. Surely by now he would’ve realised that there was absolutely no way that that would work. The older man was guarded, closed in; it would take all of the team’s SP to even get past his shields. So, what other way could they go about this?

Akira looks up to the sky, to the clouds that seem to be filling with a future rain, and closes his eyes. He could always go to Sojiro’s place of residency. Sure, he wasn’t quite sure where that was, but Yongen was small - smaller than Inaba - so he could bet that he’d find the home in no time. Sojiro should be at work right now; if Futaba happened to be living with him, then she’d be the one to open the door and the older man wouldn’t even have to know they were ever there. However immoral that option may be, it was better than trying to explain it. Besides, if they went into the cafe expecting to be able to explain the whole thing to Sojiro, they’d have no way out. What about the off chance that Futaba was aware of his death? ( It was low, but possible. He knew she had her ways. )

“Let’s look around.”

Noon - 4/23

His phone rang during his lunch hour, buzzing where it sat on the library table. Answering the call was not high on his list of priorities, no. He would much rather ignore it, especially after taking a glance at the caller ID and seeing the Unknown that surely meant Shido was the one trying to reach him. It wasn’t like he had much room to avoid his father, though, but he was supposed to be in school right now, and it would be in character for him to have his phone completely shut off.

Although the idea was tempting, he knew it would only make matters worse for him in the long run. It could be important, after all - Shido didn’t make family calls. Goro holds his breath as he presses the button. It was either some sort of update or a hit demand, both of which he didn’t have the time or mental strength for. He supposes that after school he could grab Akira, take a quick trip to the metaverse, maybe grab some dinner afterwards; that sounded awfully nice actually. He’s much more ready to get the call over with now.

“I need you to take care of something for me.” There we go - ever the same vague, sadistic greeting.

“Good day to you too, sir.” Goro feels like being a little bit of a brat today, which is probably more than he could ever possibly get away with; and yet, a surge of power flows through him when he can hear Shido scowl.

There’s no sound for a second except for the shuffling of papers on the other end, and he half convinces himself that his father had taken to ignoring him until he apologised. The politician usually didn’t have the patience for pettiness like that, however. “Listen. Niijima Sae, your colleague? I need her out of the way. With her extrinsic interest in your case, it’s too dangerous for me, allowing her to continue shoving her birch face into my business. Do you understand? Any means necessary.”

A click, and Goro’s left with the scrambling of the students around him to fill his ears. It would appear that the lunch break was over. He gets up from his seat, pretending not to notice his own tremors as he slides his notebooks into his bag. A quick thought flashes through his mind, of heading straight to the courtyard where he assumes Akira and the idiot blonds are dining and simply not attending the remainder of the school day. It seems like a great idea, gradually becoming more and more justified while he moved through the current of students walking the opposite direction. 

Shido’s voice was anything if not a sign of the ides. Goro felt a chill run through his spine, a flash of burning anger that seized his hands into fists, when he thought about their being related. He had to be patient, wait until the plan was perfectly in place, and destroy his father from the position he had worked his whole life for, from his trusted position on the inside. It was like a gas can explosion in his nervous system, being reminded of his anger and hatred and feelings of inferiority, controlling the outer workings of his body. Anger issues, he supposed, but he knew exactly who he had inherited them from.

He had to calm down, at least before he reached the outside doors to the courtyard. Akira never much liked it when he was too emotional, it seemed. In addition, it probably wouldn’t leave a rather good impression on the other metaverse users if they say him struggling to contain his desire to murder his own father - after doing all his dirty work for him - so soon after becoming acquantainces. 

How would they deal with any of them, anyway? Appearance wise, it looked alright for Goro to be making ‘friends’ of classmates at his new school. It was apparent that the ghost was against getting rid of the others, in that sense, but he would probably realise that it’s for the best to get them to forget about the metaverse. Especially if Shido’s now asking him to dispose of the student president’s nuisance of a prosecuting sister. Any loose ends, ties, that could possibly prove to expose their work were people that the detective had no time for. 

The glass door opens to a slight breeze greeting him; late spring. There’s no Akira or the blonds in sight, which is awfully disappointing in a way he wouldn’t enjoy admitting. Were they eating in the classroom today, or did they actually leave into the hallways to get to class on time? It was too late to head to the second year classrooms, then, since the late bell was ringing through his ears right now. The options he was stuck with now were to wait until he saw Akira again - which could be a while considering the hours of school they technically had to sit through. Goro debated leaving campus fully; Akira would know to keep on his own way home if he didn’t find him outside the entrance. 

Afternoon - 4/23

Akira and Ann stood by a house - they had listened in on enough local’s conversations to put together the additional groceries Sojiro was buying, the secretivity in which he locked his door, and the dinner talk of multiple people most likely meant that the cafe owner himself was housing Futaba - playing rock - paper - scissors to see who would have to knock. Logically, it should very well be Akira, but it was only fair if they argued about it for a while first. Leaving school early had been her idea, after all, so obviously it made sense for her to have to gather up the courage.

“No, you do it.”

“Akira, it’s your friend.” Ann waves her hands around, straining her neck to look down the alley. “Wouldn’t she like it more if it were you?”

That was probably true. Futaba, with her four feet of pure uncontained energy, would for sure push Akira’s ego off more than a few cliffs at the knowledge that he had been too scared to talk to her. No matter if they hadn’t seen or heard from each other in about two years. It wasn’t even that hard; why was he making this hard? Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t exactly knock on a door - which actually meant Ann would’ve had to do it either way, so the argument was really about whether she could put the blame on him or not - but he thought it was majorly the fact that he had no idea if Futaba would be able to see him or not.

He’d always had a feeling, since entering the metaverse for the first time, that she would be a big asset if they ever were to reunite, yet truly he didn’t know. He couldn’t be sure. Ann and Ryuji had been able to see him as a ghost even before going into Kamoshida’s palace and awakening to their personas, which was bound to mean something. ( It was probably related to the blue that surrounds them, that he can see again now that he’s back to normal, that could indicate a person’s probability of becoming a metaverse - user. That was much more conspiring than he wanted to get into. )

They needed some way into the house. It wasn’t guaranteed that she would open the door to a stranger, although he really agreed that they had to try. 

“Ok, ok, fine. After you knock, you can run back. If she can’t see me then she’ll just assume it was some bored ding dong ditcher, or something.” That seemed to convince her, and she stepped forward onto the porch with him. 

A hop and a skip and a knock later, they’re still standing in front of the door, waiting with their hands tucked behind their backs. Was she even home? He realised, like an idiot, just now that she would be in school. Not everyone in Tokyo literally leaves the classroom during the middle of the day because they know they can get away with it. Thinking things through was something he’d really have to start working on. 

When there were no sounds from inside the house, even after waiting an additional five minutes and knocking twice, Akira begins to wonder if they should take another tactic, another route to the treasure. As he was in ghost form, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk through the door. Invasion of privacy? Sure. But illegal? Only if someone can explain that they saw a ghost and weren't on drugs.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, puffing out his cheeks and chest. Ann looks up from her phone with a confused expression souring her face. “I’m going in.”

“You’re, uh, going in?” She stared in disbelief for a moment, again going to check the perimeter with her eyes. “Ok, then, by all means!” It was fairly obvious that she was teasing, swiping her bangs out of her face and tapping her toes. 

He could get inside and find some way to leave Futaba a note, if she wasn’t home. That seemed like a solid plan, he deemed, floating through the door into a dark entrance hallway. A staircase off to the right and, further than that, a door covered in tape with a low blue light emitting from the crack at the floor. There was a buzzing noise from that room, slight yet filling his ears. The rest of the house was still, silent, dark.

Akira heads to the light, tossing his chin over his shoulder to view Ann standing awkwardly just beyond the window, through the parted shade. It had to be Futaba, he decided, that was within the room. The blue light would definitely be the one from her pc, and some of the stickers decorating the door jam - now that he was close enough to see, even through the dark - looked vaguely familiar, like the ones he had seen in her room back in Inaba.

This door was just as easy to phase through, which didn’t take much more effort than stepping through empty air. The light was almost blinding in here, the stench of sweat and unwashed hair stronger than he had ever expected it to be. Futaba, he presumed, was the one sitting at a desk, covered in crumpled papers and action figures and half - hazardly placed trash bags. Her hair was long, much longer than it had ever been, She was muttering something while moving her mouse wildly back and forth, playing a game Akira hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, Futaba…” He hadn’t meant to say it in such a sentimental way - the plan was to come in, see if the rumors about Sojiro living with a daughter were true, and try to leave some sort of note. The plan was not, in fact, to direct the girl’s attention straight to him. Had she heard him? Was that possible?

Immediately, she’s whirling around with her seat, guffawing and squealing. Her eyes go wide. All of this was a bad idea - that much was obvious to Akira, now. Futaba, face pale and mouth open, staring at him with such profound incredulity that he was sure she was about to faint. He couldn’t exactly blame her, right? After all, Kurusu Akira was supposed to be very much dead - even if she wasn’t aware of that, then she must at least realise that they haven’t been in each other’s company since leaving Inaba. 

Suddenly, her shaking hands shoot to her face, tugging at her hair and covering her eyes. “He’s not real, it’s not real; all in your head.” Not real? Maybe she did know that he was technically dead. Next course of action: convincing her that he was, in fact, actually in her room, not six feet under. ( Why was she trying to convince herself that he wasn’t real? Did she see him a lot when he wasn’t here? )

“No, wait, Futaba! Sorry I didn’t tell you that I was alive - I didn’t really know where you were, to be honest.” That seemed to make her panic more. “But, I’m glad you’re okay! I missed you, and-”

“Go away!” Tears stream down her face, ones that he hadn’t noticed welling up in her eyes a second before. “Please, just leave me alone!”

He stalled in his place, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment to think. Calming her down was now his highest priority, yet he didn’t have much experience with that. Futaba had always been stronger than him, emotionally and mentally, when they were younger - something must’ve happened to change that. Her mother dying would for sure be related to that. Now, a pained strike stabs into his chest; this was more than a bad idea. So what if he had missed her? Surely, she had come to terms with him never coming back - yet now, he’s here, trying to show her that all of her griefing and hurt for him was for naught. Although, it was presumptuous of him to think she had mourned for him at all, not after her last family member fell.

What was he to say? Leaving now would be more detrimental - appearing and disappearing for s second time from the younger girl’s view. “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i lovelovelove ann and akira but i hope it didnt seem to romancy lolol
> 
> and i rlly wanted to write more at the end but i literally didnt have the energy so sorry :( its gonna be for next week
> 
> (remembering futaba's palace makes me so sad - she didnt deserve that T.T)


	11. the niijimas are hot and i stand by that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're speeding up i think lolol i want this done in november
> 
> also sae again!

Evening - ?/?

“It’s so nice of you two to join us for dinner!” His mother’s voice fills the dining room, rejoicing over the clicks of silverware against loaded plates of food. While Akira couldn’t remember whose idea it had been to have Futaba and her mom eat with them, he could definitely tell that it wasn’t exactly his mother’s. She was extraordinarily skilled at faking politeness, having grown up in a family where that type of stuff - her and her siblings’ behaviors - affected where they stood politically.

In return, Wakaba pastes on her own smile. “Of course! Thank you for inviting us.” A quick glance around the table that almost goes undetected and she’s grabbing her utensils like everyone else already had. “You’ll just have to give me the recipe for this, Kurusu-san!” 

Akira knows Wakaba doesn’t cook - Futaba complains enough about take - out for him to have realised that. Why exactly she was asking wasn’t eluding him, though, as he knew enough of his own acting for his parents to recognise a little bit of ass - kissing.

“Oh, I could never; I wish I could! It’s a family recipe, after all.” Prig. “But, if you want to discuss meals: did you happen to taste the neighbor’s pork, at the yakiniku last week? It was simply divine! Awfully unfortunate that it was gone so fast.” His father nods at this, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a white napkin.

Futaba kicks against Akira’s foot underneath the table, hidden away by the decorative table cloth laid perfectly from corner to corner. Everything in his house was placed exactly the same way, neatly with no hint of anything that would ruin his parent’s careful image. His friend, though, is an unbalance to all of that; It wasn’t a normal occurrence, that Akira was able to have a friend that his mother didn’t approve first, much less be able to hang out with them. He couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in his gut, like this wasn’t going to last - that, pretty soon, his parents would tell him the real reason why they were being nice to him. ( There had to be one, they were never just nice out of nowhere. )

There’s not much else to be said while they eat. The food is some meat dish that Akira’s had a couple times - they make it whenever someone unimportant comes over, which, again, is a blue moon event. It was fine tasting. One time, Futaba had told him that it was the best thing that she had eaten this year. She’s good at hyperboles; tall - tales were one of her specialities, and were always just the right amount of suspended social commentary that he thinks she’s the only person in the world who gets it right. In a way, she’s probably so extended from reality that he’s most likely correct in that regard.

The dinner goes by fairly quickly, with a little passive talks between their respective mothers. He’s more than glad when it ends, because that means he’s free to run around outside or in his room with Futaba. Even when they’re not really allowed to spend time together for whatever reason, they’ve always found ways around it, and Akira thinks that’s one of the majors of ways they’ve remained steady friends. They were willing to go above and beyond for each other, to protect the other like an older brother would a younger sister, and to sacrifice almost anything for the other.

Afternoon - 4/23

Akira hoped that virtue had remained in place. As Futaba slowly calmed down, her hands slowly dropping from her face, he could see the absolute look in her eyes. Having him here had ignited something within her, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not that he didn’t know how she was regarding him. He supposes that he would act in a similar fashion - if she were to be the dead one and suddenly appear in his room, with no warning and less hesitance, then surely he would be collapsed on the floor long before letting her talk.

“Hey.” He wills his voice to stay flat, for his arm to stay by his side inside of waving at her. Any movements right now would be too much, he thinks, for her overworked brain to handle, to process. 

Her tears have, for the most part, dried inside her eyelids, yet she still sniffles when her throat opens up. “Huh?”

With a scratch to his neck, he repeats himself. “Hey.” It seems she had calmed down enough, at least, to hold some sort of semblance to a conversation. Talking with her was something that he had missed, but he realised by now that he had to pull her up from the ground with as much patience as he could muster.

“How’re you here?” Stuttering, here and there, makes him want to give her a hug. Futaba just looks so nervous, so suggestion of his voice hitting her ears. Anything beyond the complete pain in her eyes and he’s ignorant, focused almost entirely on coming up with far - fetched solutions to help her feel better. It was much too late, now, to turn tail and pretend like he hadn’t come here, hadn’t tracked her down by listening to various conversations through her neighborhood. Goro would have his head if he ever learned of his cowardice.

Should he be honest? That might be a little too much, for starting off. “Uh, through the door?” A second later, Futaba shocks the both of them with the laugh that emits from deep within her stomach. Sarcasm was never his specialty, nor was humor, and yet she always made sure to laugh at the exact right time for his jokes. 

There’s a pregnant pause before either of them speak again. Bathing in the light of each other’s company, mostly, is what they’re doing at the moment. Akira assumes a position on the floor, seated besides one of the numerous piles of dark clothing. It’s comfortable in her room, really, even as he struggles to pull an empty soda can out from under his leg. He’s sure that her mind is still whirling, twitching, struggling to connect the dots that are sprawled out on multiple sheets of paper, on alternating planes of existence. That, by itself, has to be single - handedly the highest thing he misses about living in Inaba with her. The utter speed in which her brain worked, incomprehensible by anyone without the time to analyse each electrical push of her neurons. Futaba was brilliant, and Akira was sure that a spontaneous visit from a ghost would not be able to break her in the slightest.

Evening - 4/23

After Goro had discovered that Akira had skipped school - with the blonde, Takamaki, no less - without any regards to their extremely important undercover image at Shujin, they meet up at the apartment to discuss dinner plans. And taking out Niijima - san. He’s still not quite sure of the plan of action he wishes to instill when defeating her. The way of which Shido speaks - a mental shutdown or a psychotic break - were both solutions that he could honestly admit to himself now were two that he very badly wanted to avoid. As much as he didn’t really like the older woman, murdering ( even when done in the metaverse ) was something he simply did not condone doing. Anymore.

“Your childhood - friend lives with Sakura - san, now? Akira, correct me if I’m wrong, but how is it possible that you spoke to her? Surely she didn’t have an Ouija board on hand or something akin to one.” His hands cover a dishcloth, scrubbing the center of a plate. They had just had a healthy serving of some takeout that had sat in the back of the fridge for a couple of days - Akira watching the detective eat while licking his lips. Should he feel bad about eating in front of a ghost? Well, he doesn’t.

“Obviously I don’t know shit about the logistics of all of that.” Akira, in a complete transparent glory, rolls his eyes and flicks his own ear. He wasn’t yet made aware of exactly what the two had really discussed during his impromptu trip to Yongen earlier this day, but he could tell that it was at least half of what Akira had been expecting. “And I think she does have one, actually, but we didn’t end up using it. She can see me, I guess, just like you can.”

They don’t feel like going to school today, neither of them, so it seems better for the both of them to spend the remainder of the week at the apartment. Goro took a little convincing - it would be suspicious if they missed too much school even a little while after they’ve enrolled, wouldn’t it? Enrolling in Shujin was an odd decision, sure, but he hadn’t chosen a plan on how to utilise the opportunity to find out any inside information. That was the whole reason he had put himself through any of this, anyway. 

Akira becoming dead again sort of completely fucked with everything. Bound to happen eventually, he supposed, yet something in the back of his mind prevented him from seeing the entire situation logically. As much as he wanted to see it exactly as it was, something akin to the feelings that arose from the events of the previous day stopped that. Goro was usually opposed to getting off task - right now there was only a much smaller part of him, compared to the most of him that is inclined to agree, that wants to continue with his usual charade of the cold detective.

Goro wonders if they should get out of the house at all. It might be too late for anything near to be open, but Kichijoji always had a wide selection of nightly activities for the two to partake in. “That’s rather odd.” He realises that he hadn’t responded to Akira in a while, the other growing antsy at the lack of noise. “Anyways, are you up to going out anywhere?”

“Darts sound good.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

Evening - 4/23

So, now they stood, outside of Penguin Sniper, hands in their pockets while they stared at an obnoxiously bright ‘Closed’ sign. Why the hell were they closed? Akira’s sighs grew with discontent, watching Goro pace back and forth in the tapered alley. They’d either have to go all the way back to Shibuya, arriving back home after only a short trip to the entrance, or possibly find something else to do. Surely, there was a lot to do in Kichijoji - the jazz cafe that the detective was unusually particularly fond of, the bookstore teeming with overgrown stacks of hardcovers, and the countless market stands lining the streets.

Nothing short of absolute fun for two teenage boys. 

Akira wants to curl in on himself, right here on the cobblestone. However, Goro’s quickly ushering them into a short corner between buildings, muttering something into his phone, and pulling on the ghost’s sleeve as soon as they were in Mementos. The shadows hid them in the real world, the shadows of Tokyo providing them the cover they needed then, but now they stood underneath a spotlight above the twisted station. It shone through the hazy stillness, provided by the pollen season; even the dust was drowsy in the light’s wake. 

“Did you get a new target?” He tries not to sound too exciting - he’s fairly certain he fails that miserably. They need some action, for sure, and anything at this point seemed perfect for letting out some energy.

Goro shrugged, pointedly looking away. “Well, Shido called me earlier, I don’t mean to keep that from you.” Scratches the back of his neck, scrunches up his eyelashes. “He did order an attack, actually, but I’m not sure of his true intent.

Akira smiles a bit, shaky yet hopefully mildly reassuring. There shouldn’t be any reason for Goro being odd about this, right? “Isn’t it always like that?”

“Ah, yes, but - well, Shido wants Niijima - san out of the way.” It’s strange hearing it out loud, coming out of Goro’s mouth. Out of the way? When has he ever discussed a mission in such a lax manner? And about a colleague? Sometimes, especially when they had just met, Akira could’ve been inclined to describe the two as friends, almost. As they grew closer, he had eventually realised that wasn’t the case - but the initial analysis had stuck with him.

Sae - if she even had a shadow in Mementos - would be a difficult target for them both. Meeting Makoto afterhand would’ve made it much harder, he figures, though no want of destruction for either of them was strong enough to even think of a plausible need to cause any sort of shutdown for the woman. There wasn’t even any guarantee that she had any distorted desires, anyhow. From his vantage point ( mostly on the outside ) she seemed like a perfectly respectable employer of the law.

“But you don’t want to.” That much was obvious. They both knew that. “Why would he want to? Shido can’t be feeling threatened by some lawyer lady, even one with her skill and perspective.” Yeah, there had been the call from her about joining Goro’s investigative team, and the comment from Makoto this morning, but surely she hadn’t actually reached the boss’ radar. Akira hadn’t accomplished that himself, despite being half of the duo that dirties their hands for the man. Not to mention being killed by him, either. 

Goro tosses his head to the side, stepping down from the platform with his cape fluttering behind him, as if waving Akira to follow. “Of course not, Niijima is barely a stone in my path. Shido wishes for control, I suppose, that's the sole purpose of removing her. Even if she doesn’t hold the abilities to prove any obstacle to him.” 

A shadow, asleep, stands a few metres in front of their feet. Akira grimances, seeing Goro reaching for the gun he keeps pressed against his thigh. As much as he had been anticipating destroying a few broken souls, now that he knew of the conflict within their little system - screwed and glued together with the rusted backs of forks and sticky dog slobber - it felt wrong for them to not to focus their entire attentions and efforts toward the mission. 

“Can we not?” Akira digs the tip of his boot into a neat pile of dirt. Mementos was yucky, in its theory and its aesthetic. The mindless atonement of unwilling individuals, decorating the mimeograph of a well - traversed location, wandering in wait of persecution.

Goro jumps, the weapon slipping from his glove for a split second. “Can we not, what?”

Another speck of dirt lands on the top of his shoe. He wonders what it’d taste like. Did anything in the metaverse have a taste? He couldn’t recall. “I mean, like. Can’t we just get to wherever Nijima might, could, should be and decide from there? I don’t think I can fight right now after hearing that. What would Shido want with her?” That was apparently the wrong thing to say, judging by the hate on the detective’s face. Not towards him? 

With a wide step forward, awakening the enemy to a slash to the throat, Akira gets his answer: no, not towards him. Some things smell like dog, like a shadow’s blood. The stench slowly fills the air, along with the sounds of the metal slicing through still winds like a sharp toenail through cheap socks. While mildly painful to watch, the awkwardness of the encounter was made up for by the sheer desperation in which Goro fought. It wasn’t like Akira had never seen him fight, never watched him hold up a newly acquired weapon with enough passion to a newlywed cry. But it was raw each time - fire in his eyes to match the burn of the ghost’s throat, watching in stillness as he flew through the air, a crow upon a fencepost, pouncing onto the back of the penumbra that had barely moved an inch. 

Gone in a flash, finished in a blink. Akira could hardly will his mouth closed, staring at Goro with such fever that he was afraid he might try to kiss him again. Any mess from the fight was no issue prevalent in his mind, focused on only the aching desire to do something, anything. It hadn’t even been a fight, not really; not when Crow had taken one look to the shadow, one soft whisper, and the whole thing had fallen apart.

Honestly, Akira’s not quite sure at the moment he was safe from falling over himself. On the other hand, the detective looks no much worse for wear, holding onto a nonplussed, phlegmatic smirk with all the darkness that shone onto his expression, into his face. Is it pride? It had to be something just as destructive.

Someone clears their throat - Akira, maybe - and they look away. Light enters the area again, displaying the exact minute their gaze breaks. He breathes in for a second, to keep the moment sweet, and with a flick of Goro’s talon-ed glove they head down deeper. 

Mementos was an odd place, that was widely agreed upon. He wondered for the first time they would bring the others down. Would they be able to handle it with the same voracity as him and the detective? That wasn’t to feed into his own ego, no, it was only to comment on how remarkably tough it was to stay mentally afloat in a state of the world in which was actively trying to drain its occupants. A place so dead the living could barely stand it. Akira didn’t know, in the slightest bit, how Ryuji or Ann or Morgana would truely react to Mementos, to watching Goro tear apart shadows like they were nothing but meat, to wait while Akira grabbed every last flower on the floor for no one in particular. 

He recalls that Morgana had already been to Mementos - when they had first met, and the cat had followed them into the underground Tokyo area to catch them in a murderous act. ( He hadn’t, of course, but the fear had been there - on their side. ) But for the blonds, what was it going to be? They didn’t condone murder, that much was obvious, and yet Ryuji had sat through an argument about the moral implications of them dissolving souls in the metaverse, hadn’t run away, hadn’t forgotten their names. Akira pales, slightly, when remembering that, yes, Ryuji had heard them talking about the mental shutdowns being caused by them. He could easily be planning something against them, like he knew Goro was. They could easily be…

“Akira, are you coming?” He had stopped walking. Stalled in place completely, apparently. Goro had gotten fed up with waiting for him to step out of his thoughts, step out of the murk. There’s a station clear ahead of them, but he isn’t sure when it got there. 

He nods hastily, collecting the last threads of his composition. They walk down the unmoving escalators, silent beneath their masks. There’s no need to talk, nothing to say. Goro is just as shockingly beautiful as ever, with that violent gleam in his eyes and the slight tremor in his wrist after handling a blade. 

He has a question, wandering throughout the forefront of his mind, waiting to be asked. “What if Niijima - sand isn’t corrupted? Will Shido accept that?” That would only be a solution if it was guaranteed that the man understood the workings of the cognitive world. Goro didn’t talk enough about him casually for Akira to know anything exact. All he had heard from the man directly were the few lines he had spit into his face while he lied in the street, and the various times in which a phone call had occurred when Akira was next to the recipient. None of the important questions were answered, like why Goro even worked for the man or either of their motives.

“We’ll work through that when we get there,” and that was that. He noticed the tightness of the detective’s expression, how his eyebrows drew together and his teeth ground up with his jaw, yet his eyes were clear. Calm. Was he playing up his anger? Akira notes that he’s been thinking of the two of them as more separate forces in the last couple days; instead of a huge typhoon, it was more that Goro was a supernova - gathering up the last remnants of energy needed to perform siphon to destroy everything around him - and Akira was more of a quiet hurricane - one that bunched up over a single area indefinitely, leaving a patch of still and chill that would be impossible to bear.

He nods, again, and they pick up the pace. No real answer to his question, fine. Potentially, what could happen would be that the two continue down and down, searching for Niijima’s twisted soul until they get so deep into Mementos that there’s no possible way that there were any down there. As much as he wanted to agree with Goro’s sentiments, that they’d deal with it when they had to, he couldn’t put aside the worry that they definitely shouldn’t be doing this behind Makoto’s back; but what other choice did they have? Was it even an option to complete the task in front of her? 

...Actually, that wasn’t a half bad idea. Akira already had a sneaking suspicion that she would be great in the metaverse, the same salvo that courses through Goro’s veins running through hers, and he was almost positive that if he went up to her now, in his ghostly state, that she would stagger backwards in awe. If only he could get his partner on board - then they’d have a show.

Something strikes him, now, suddenly. The question of Goro’s involvement with these cases was an important topic that was somehow passed over each and every time it was brought up. Shido was demanding that he do these tasks, Shido was threatening him to do what he said. Akira didn’t mean to put any additional blame on his friend, no. He was only becoming increasingly aware that Shido was the man that killed him, but he knew that since his murderer had called his trusted hit man to clean up his body in the metaverse. Supposedly the only option for Akira, now that he’s dead, was to work for said murderer. Did no one find that strange? Surely the detective would’ve found some way out of the whole arrangement, especially from his position within the Japanese police force. 

“How was LeBlanc, the other day?” Goro broke first, facing Akira with a soundless clap of his hands. “I’d be shocked if you went just for coffee.”

Akira shrugs - he hadn’t quite yet decided which sections of that he wished to share. Meeting up with Ryuji and Shiho to discuss his growing infatuation with the Detective Prince wasn’t exactly a reason he felt like opening up about, just now. But, the coffee had been good, a decided factor of his choosing the location. Going to LeBlanc had been really nice, Akechi decides, and wonders how he could convince Goro to go with him the next time they’re free.

“Ah, it was super good, though, by my standards of coffee. Yours, too.” He didn’t like coffee. The older boy was an avid drinker of it. ( The ghost’s father had been, as well as his mother, but they took it imported from some stupid country, usually, like Spain. )

Finally, that seemed like the night thing to say. Instead of frowning at his insinuation of the detective’s fine tastes, Goro smiles a tad, barely pulling the skin of cheeks. It was a nice look on him, admittedly; when he truly smiled, it made Akira feel as if he’s actually accomplished something - opened a gateway with a lock that changed twice a second with a key he had forged with his own strong will and hands.

Goro steps towards a glowing red and black portal, familiar to the two. A pause, and then: “We’ll have to try it together, sometime.” And the ghost is sure there’s nothing that could make him happier.

Once they’re through the swirling colors, though, Akira’s excitability vanishes - almost as quickly as a moth leaves a light after it’s been shut off. Nijima - would she be the light of the moth in that equation? - unravels into a distinctly opponent - like form, twisting and churning without even giving them the time to speak. ( or would she be the implied human turning the bulb off? Dimming the stage for the moth? He’s never been good at these, figurative language. )

“Oh, my! What do we have here?” Niijima calls out to them, beckoning them forward with a level of intelligent speech that he didn’t know shadow’s were capable of. A glance off to his side reveals that Goro’s struggling to contain a measure of anguish he couldn’t describe. If Sae keeps talking, she is bound to hit a major weakness point for the detective. At least his question from earlier had been answered. 

The thought passes through his mind to hold the other back, to shield him or something, but it’s wiped from his cognition as a blur of a black and blue cape flies past his vision. Crap; was he really planning on attacking so openly, like that? Something so rushed and unthought was unlike Goro - surely the woman didn’t bother him to that extent. To be irrational about a mission they were both reluctant to take seriously was like signing a death wish. Especially considering that they hadn’t even analysed the shadow, as Crow sends a bullet to ricochet back in Akira’s direction.

If Niijima didn’t end up killing them here, it was most certainly going to be Shido when he found out that Goro wasn’t taking the necessary precautions to insure his plan, to continue steadily. Honestly - he shoots an ill - timed Kougaon that ends its strike at the wall - it would probably do them better to attempt a civilised talk with Niijima - san’s shadow than to do whatever the hell Goro was dancing around for. No, it definitely would do them better. 

Laughing resounds from the centre of the station at the shout from Goro, after yet another insta - kill hit fails to land. “Come on, Detective Prince, can’t you do any better? Here I thought you knew we were equals - you can’t possibly be deliberately taking it easy on me.” She pauses for one tense, teasing moment. “Unless… you aren’t?”

Grunting, he wings forth the blade of his saber, pulsing with a violent sort of dark energy, with the undignified grace of a swamp toad. Akira takes a moment to evaluate exactly what mess he’s looking at here: Niijima hasn’t moved an inch throughout the entire ‘battle,’ while his partner steps, creeping, forward like he’s no real sense of direction. That’s all it took? A little targeted coaxing and the detective’s coming apart, his unresolved anger issues pulling at the seams of a cloaked identity. 

“I will defeat you!” Goro seethes, shoulders heaving with every breath, jaw clenched shut. “You are nothing compared to me.” He jumps forward again, into the fog created by Niijima’s confusion. Akira’s not sure of anything - all analysing he had done showed blanks, proving no tangible weaknesses in the enemy’s armour. Was it truly for the best to let an enraged murderer continue with a losing fight? It couldn’t be that damaging, he figured, judging by the arrow that actually burrows into a soft field of exposed skin between her breastplate and shoulder. 

“To hell with you!” It’s Goro, again, yelling at Niijima who appears to be more focused on easily dodging the next round of ammo aimed her way than the onslaught of damning words. “I haven’t fought my whole life for my spot just for you to come up behind me and take it with your privilege.” Maybe, Akira thinks, he should start to consider again to jump in. Goro was going to say something regrettable, and it was bound to be painful to watch him skid across the tracks from a single, light punch for a second time.

Now, it seemed like she was pointedly ignoring him, throwing each and every one of the spears and daggers she had in her belt, or lying besides her on the floor, even towards Akira. Partially convinced in his earlier position of a simple spectre, he yearned to join in on the desperation, the despaired energy building up around the two fighting. He almost wondered if he should look away; but when he tried, he found that he couldn’t - much too drawn to the sight of Crow’s deranged, amber coated eyes and his slouched figure. Niijima, even, seems slightly distraught at the turn of power, the shift that left behind a stench of determination in the air. 

Rushing through a list of Bless skills much too fast for Goro’s current SP count, he’s calling out to the woman again. “I am not inferior to you; you cannot beat me, not before I renounce my role as my father’s puppet and destroy every shitty thing he stands for! My power is unlimited, unlike yours, and I will exceed you!”

The words are a punch to Akira’s gut, halving his health before he even entered the ring. Intentions clear, heart lit in proof of its beating. Every card Goro held over him, both of his hands securely attached from every angle, had been revealed, placed upon the table in a sudden flurry of sacred emotions. Things he had kept from his childhood, close to his heart, torn away from the trembling veins by his own hands. Has that been the truth this whole time? Goro willingly compiling with Shido’s every order in hopes to gain enough trust to do what he had to him as a child - torn apart, limb from limb, tendon from bone and muscle, to endure the same god - inspiring anguish that’d crush an ordinary sinner’s still heart.

Akira’s killer, Shido, the same man he had been working with - without his knowledge, even - was also the same that invoked that powerful, whipping wind that tore across Goro’s expression each time he mentioned his forsaken heritage. Now then, that was clearly a jaw - dropping revelation. What did that mean for any of this? Had he been part of the ploy to trick the most powerful man of Japan, without any regards to himself? What about his fucking life, huh? Would Goro have tried harder to legitimately save him if he hadn’t been focused on accumulating Shido’s wealth for him? He had stood behind him the entire time, defending him from the other metaverse users, halting his urge to kiss the boy at each turn, just for him to have been using Akira. 

When he had said he hated being dead, it absolutely did not mean that he missed the burning pain he experienced prior to his death, or the cold blanket that smothered him in place of his mother’s love. Neglect went hand in hand with whatever other shit Goro had neglected to mention, and he’d felt enough of that in his empty living. Living only for the next day, dying for nothing but the warmth of his blood on another’s hands, being manipulated like a doll had to hurt. However, Akira couldn’t feel much else at this point besides the aching despair that he himself hadn’t questioned it. Any of it.

His hands had covered his ears at some point, but he removed them to fully immerse himself in the rest of the fight. Goro’s broken apart most of Niijima’s defenses, it seemed, and the whole scene lay so flat upon the backdrop of the public’s cognition. It’s a screaming match, yet he can’t understand the words they’re screaming.

He turns and leaves through the colours without a thought, having touched nothing, as if he hadn’t been there at all. 

Morning - 4/24

Goro doesn’t recall Akira’s departure, whatsoever. There was a flash of blackened dust as Niijima’s shadow self dispersed from the destruction brought by his blade. Had the other boy been harmed in the quarrel? He wouldn’t have left, though, had that been the reason. Akira, although he initially appears extremely open about his welfare and emotions, further investigations would prove that the younger boy was rather selfless in his askings of other people. It was one of the things he found oddly remarkable about him. 

The whole night was far too idiotic for his tastes; it really was too bad that Akira had left him in Mementos by himself, as he had agreeably been dying to share a few of his grievances with the ghost. He had work today, unfortunately, and couldn’t afford the time to track Akira down. Had he gotten bored of watching Goro win? That was understandable, yet the other had never just left him in Mementos before.

Work would be as monotonous as always, but he’d have to be extra - cautious of his behavior around Niijima - san, of course. If he lost his temper around the woman in reality like he had in the metaverse, then - well, he wouldn’t allow that to happen, anyway. Niijima wasn’t a major enough obstacle for Goro to let himself become consumed with thoughts of surpassing her beyond human limits. Most likely, he would be able to make it through most of the day without running into her at all.

However, he wasn’t known across the country for his luck. Despite his diligence, it seemed Sae’s fake socialabilty caught up to him anyway. As he was walking from the coffee bar back to his desk, the prosecutor tapped her shoes, quickly gaining the speed necessary to stand before him. Goro suppresses a pitiful groan, debating whether, instead, he should simply step to the side of her as if she had never been in his way at all. Such a fantasy was too good to actually exist, of course, so he plasters on his best ‘pleasant boy’ smile, holding onto his paper cup, steam slowly waning, with the toyed innocence of a true high schooler. 

“Akechi - san, how are you?” She really needs some newer openings; there’s only so many variations of the same old lie that he could spew. He’s tempted to tell her exactly how he is, implicit in the fact that it’s her fault that he was, and let her little head struggle to work that out. But, then again, he’s always had his public image to consider - he couldn’t risk any damage to the carefully constructed, expressionless version he showed the world. 

“Fine. Say, Niijima - san, I heard something of an investigation was to be performed yesterday. May I inquire on how that went?” Goro didn’t allow his resentment to show; even as his heart thuds in want of his job’s completion, his life’s mission, he holds his head higher and looks the one trying for his place in the eye. Her wrist twitches, she blinks a little too hard. She may not be open to telling him anything, but that would be alright - he had other, more reliant sources for this kind of thing.

An eyebrow raises. “I was expecting to see you heading it, though I’m not all too surprised that you weren't.” Ah. Had she always been this honest? “To be frank, though,” she says, like they’re discussing potential prom queen nominations instead of pretending not to be at each other’s throat. “You didn’t miss much. All that was really discussed - the first mental shutdown victim, the pattern, the suspects - all topics a detective such as yourself surely is already aware of.”

“Suspects? I-” he’s shocked into thinking out loud. Goro had not known of any suspected leads in the case - the case that he had committed. Is that why he hadn’t been told of the meeting yesterday? Did anyone else in the office suspect him of committing such heinous crimes? No, he insists to calm himself, if they had then he wouldn’t be standing here. Unless they didn’t have enough evidence - what if they were collecting evidence on him and Akira had known and that was why he left Mementos early the night before, knowing that they were on his tail? Would that be plausible? Should he even be entertaining the thought?

Sae sounds conflicted when she chooses to speak again, sliding the tip of her fingernail across the side of the files she’s holding. “I wouldn’t know too much about that.” A lie, he presumes. “I had assumed you were informed about all of this through your absence - my apologies. But I’m fairly certain the woman in the block beside you holds the meeting’s notes.” How many people were filling the investigation now? Was this a part of Shido’s plan, to use reverse psychology to trick the police into looking into his own case, focusing their efforts on that instead of his others? Pulling such a card so late in the game was a move, in Goro’s mind, that could only ever be reserved for his father; a move that insured the health of only one of the players. Which is why - even throughout the detective’s entire plan of siding with Shido - Goro kept his own mind, as the only person that could ever watch his back was himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh tell me if this was coherent or not


	12. AH i forgot to post this yesterday my bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp that was my fault - i fell asleep w the chapter done thinking i would wake up to post it :(

Morning - 4/25

The only person that would protect Goro was himself. The situation being the exact opposite of propitious, he couldn’t find himself wishing it on his worst enemy. Would that be Shido? At this point - from an outside perspective - it would probably seem to be Niijima - san herself, yet the detective wasn’t sure he even thought of her that way. Infuriating, enraging, graveling; Niijima - san was a true vex to Goro’s mind, especially considering the recent developments.

“I’m leaving early today, actually,” she says, brushing a hand through the hair over her face. Her eyes look tired, and he has to bite back a grin at the thought that he had caused that. People were often affected by changes to their metaverse doubles - even though he hadn’t fully defeated her, it was obvious she was still feeling harmed in reality. “So if you have any additional queries I would certainly recommend visiting that coworker.”

That’s rather obnoxious of her, he thinks, even as she walks away with a slight slouch to her figure. He didn’t have the time - he did have the patience, though, but that wasn’t in question - to attempt to gather information that he should know from some nameless, faceless source. Akira would be perfect for this job, annoyingly, and again he yearns for his presence. His aid would be most appreciated in this moment, assuredly. 

Should he leave as well? Head off home after only a few hours of working? Although it wasn’t like Niijima to skip out on work due to a little tiredness, today really was quite slow, so they wouldn’t be missing out on much. Maybe he could trail her, just for a few minutes, to see if she truly was leaving for the reason specified. It was possible that he could find out something interesting about her; perhaps she had an outside confidant for which she got her information from. Because, surely, the investigative team hadn’t come to suspect his involvement in the case without independent consultation. Working with them to discover exactly how they came to these conclusions was too much work, of course - Goro’s only other option was to follow Niijima and see if she’ll lead him towards any thing he should for sure know about. And, besides, it would be a great waste of a boring, worthless day.

Morning - 4/25

Akira hadn’t gone home the previous night. After leaving Mementos, leaving Goro to fight the monster by himself, he had found himself wandering back to Yongen - Jaya with no need. Seeing Futaba a second time was much too soon for the both of them, surely, and he wasn’t positive that he could make it another seating in LeBlanc - even if Sojiro had no idea that he was actually there. Being invisible had its perks, of course, because it meant that he could sit in front of the cafe without affecting any of the ( few ) customers. Being dead, though, had the opposite perks. He didn’t have to sleep, which meant that he was free to sit against the brick all night long, without growing tired. He had many, many hours to sit in wait, wondering about the best course of action in this scenario. 

Goro, who had ‘saved’ him from dying a true death, was working for the man that had killed him. That much was already known, already established, already dealt with and understood. However: the part about Goro’s father, biological father that he’s mentioned despising since birth, being the man that he was working for ( that also killed Akira ) was an entirely new concept that honestly wasn’t given the attention that it deserved. Knowing the full linguistics of everything wasn’t usually in his top priorities, and yet right now it seemed that his mind was striving to make sense of the entire thing, the arguments from both sides. Questions such as - how did Niijima fit into all of this? - or - how did he fit into all of this? 

Defeating Kamoshida was only a mild distraction in his path, and the only thing necessary now was finding out the truth. The metaverse brought out the worst in people, the pair knows that - still bringing in outside forces to that rendezvous. What would’ve happened if the others had been there, too? He recalls now, almost in a whiplash train of thought, that he left Goro to fend for himself with the strongest opponent they’d ever faced outside of an individual’s palace. Even then, Niijima - san was formidable in her approach, causing the detective a kind of distress Akira had never seen derived from him. She got him to confess things he never would’ve expected to hear coming from Goro’s mouth, and rose him to a certain level of indignation that got him to spill his guts onto the charred metal of the metaverse arena. 

Pretty quickly, after he had settled into the alleyway last night, Akira had decided that he couldn’t care less. In fact, he didn’t care at all! Having the knowledge he did now didn’t change how he would treat the older boy; it didn’t affect him much that Goro’s father was Shido. Actually, what did that really change, at all? Surely, bringing light to the detective’s hidden daddy issues was important enough - in some kind of perspective Akira couldn’t handle at the moment - yet they hadn’t affected the dynamic of their pairing so far. 

It made him feel even worse about leaving Goro in Mementos. Why had he even reacted like that, anyway? Usually, Akira was such a go - with - the - flow kind of guy; not many things were allowed to govern him in strong ways, especially variables outside of his typical equation. He didn’t have to deal with Shido too much - at all actually, now that he thinks about it - so if Goro’s whole scheme was to topple Shido because of his shitty parenting, then he should continue assisting him. Luckily, even though Akira’s own parents weren’t exactly top picks in that department, they weren’t evil overlords dead set on controlling all of Tokyo, the country. Of course, it was fine that his hands were still shaking with the revelation and his head still spun with the beginnings of a stress migraine, and it was also fine that his legs could barely support him as he leaned against the gully wall, shaking and trembling with unspent tension.

The real pain, though, was brought along by the cognizance that his part in all of it was decided without him. It was right to be upset about that, yes? He deserved to be able to play an active role in his own life, even through his death. Goro had chosen that without him, without any acknowledgement that they would be doing all of this for a sack of shit as an award. It was fine; Akira was fine; everything was fine. First, he had to actually discuss, talk it all over, with his roommate, and then - after an assured fight would ensue - everything would be cleared up and they could go back to defeating the normal targets in the metaverse. ( Maybe stringing along some others, strengthening their numbers as a group, and taking down some more local baddies, like Kamoshida. Then, possibly, they would all feel more like they were doing some actual good. ) 

“Back to drink half of another Americano?” There’s a voice from besides him, calling out to him from inside the cafe. He jumps, probably, though he’s not focused on much more than Sojiro’s soft expression staring down at him. Was he talking to him? Akira looks around, sort of expecting Morgana to jump out from the shadows meowing for a lick of caffeine.

There are no cats in sight, magical - metaverse cats or otherwise.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, me?” His voice cracks, just enough that he definitely couldn’t deny the sound that broke through the air came from his question. He waits for a reply. Since there was no one visible around, then that meant Sojiro must see him, right? Unless this was just some sort of nightly ritual thing that severely hindered Akira’s perception of the man’s sanity.

Instead of being ignored, Sojiro acts like he’s the idiot for not recognizing the minute details of the situation sooner. “Who else? Now, come inside before I decide you’re more trouble than what it’s worth.” Ah, well, that was awfully sweet of him. It was a rather cold morning after all, and it seemed that the cafe owner was just now opening up, so it wouldn’t be too imposing of him to accept the invitation. Why not?

He keeps the door open for the ghost for a second longer than he needs to, because technically Akira didn’t need the opening at all. He pretends to slip in through the gap anyway, still bewildered by the idea that the local coffee man could see him in ghost form. Sojiro didn’t have that glowing blue aura following him around like the other metaverse users had; did it not mean what he thought it meant? Because, like, there was absolutely no way that the man had the same powers as they did. Simply preposterous. Right? Well, he doesn’t mean to underestimate the other - it’s just that, well, he wasn’t exactly in his prime. 

“Curry?” Akira looks up to hear the water running, and Sojiro washing his hands diligently. He nods - he’s hungry enough, he supposes, to withstand the spice - until he frowns and realises he can’t exactly eat. Well that sucks. Akira’s about to wave Sojiro back over, frantically apologise and make up some excuse about recently becoming vegetarian or something equally as see through - when the tip of his toe catches on the underside of the bar stool closest to him. With a muffled gasp, he’s sent straight forward to the floor.

So, uh, maybe he wouldn’t have to deny the offering of food? That would explain Sojiro seeming him, then, since it seemed that something he had done recently in the metaverse affected overall cognition ( or at least Sojiro’s ) enough for him to materialise. Having no idea what that could’ve been, Akira pushes his skepticism to the back of his mind, choosing instead to take the time to fully appreciate the scents of LeBlanc cafe. Did Futaba come here often, her guardian being the manager? By the state of her room, it would certainly seem like she didn’t get out much, yet he recalls her spaces always being a rather sorry disorganised mess, if his memory served him correctly. If she did enjoy the ambience, though, then he figures it would be a good place to start rekindling their friendship. 

That would probably have to wait until after Akira figures out whatever shit that he’s dealing with, trudging through now. There was a) the stuff, imminent stuff, he for sure had to take through with Goro as soon as the moment arose, and b) figuring out what sort of accord had him growing back opaque limbs. It wouldn’t do to plan something with Futaba, for a future date, and have Shido come and kill him again - permanently this time - or turn back and have her think he stood her up. The curiosity of the whole situation was really starting to weigh on him, heavy.

Sojiro seems to be continuing to open up shop, turning on lights and burners. “How’s that boy of yours?” His voice is gruff, but he talks in a soft manner that Akira hadn’t noticed before. It’s welcome. From what he recalls of his own dad, his voice was nothing pleasant to listen to - yet he still finds himself missing him.

“I don’t know; home, probably,” he replies through a mouthful of rice. That was true enough - Goro had three locations that, at any given moment, a person would surely be able to find him there. The apartment was one, so was the police department office, and the more secluded one was Mementos. The detective was predictable in his habits, so Akira could almost guess that Goro had gone home from work by now, depending on what time it was. For seeming like such a workaholic, he didn’t really like to be at the office a whole lot.

The older man clicks his tongue, turns the fan above the stove to low. “Ah, going through stuff?” Reasonable question, one that Akira was currently struggling to answer - were they ‘going through stuff?’ Was that phrase even applicable to them? Probably, or probably not - he should probably actually ask somebody about that. Ann?

“Oh, I don’t know.”Akira looks down at his plate, fiddling with the last chunk of meat; shrugs his shoulders. “Just found out something, yesterday, that sort of freaked me out. I’m not sure how to feel about it or where to go from here.” There really wasn’t much else he could do. Besides confronting Goro, the most Akira could see to do was simply ignore the issue. But, in all good romance skills - especially the ones he used to make Futaba watch - when the main pair sidestepped the major problem for long enough, it was basically required for them to have a screaming match in the rain until they forgave each other and made out violently. That… wasn’t exactly relevant here. 

“Look, kid,” Sojiro leans above the sink, wringing a dish cloth between his surprisingly soft - looking hands. “I’ve got no idea of your story, but you’ve got to be some sort of angel to that boy, since I think it’s pretty impossible to put up with a goody - goody like that all the time. Am I right?” Akira laughs, imagining what sort of spell had to be placed on the man for him to think either of those assumptions were true. 

“Cause I know that face he puts on is only pretty for the television.”

Akira stutters, fork hitting the surface of the bar. “Not true!” Oh - well - he didn’t mean to shout that; now it could barely be passed off as a joke. Maybe, if he’s annoying enough while they’re talking, Sojiro would take back what he said earlier - but he could also make Akira pay for the dent his forehead left in the tile. ( He was grateful that the other hadn’t mentioned the fall at all, yet. )

Sojiro only chuckles under his breath, turning back to the big pot on the stove. The spice in the air was stronger now than what it was when Akira came in the other day, presumably because he was witnessing the pure liquid gold being made. It was like some sort of magic, Akira thought, when people were capable of cooking. He used to wish he had the skill, to improve his own charm, but now he only hoped Goro continued to cook for him each day ( that he’s alive. )

It seems the discussion’s reached a peak lull, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Rather its peace rivals that greatly of the noise inside his head. Deep down, Akira knew he couldn’t just put off the whole situation forever. They were going to have to meet at some point, and he was going to have to hear out Goro’s reasoning. If not to solve the facer, then to gratify his own curiosity. Afterall, what pushes a person to use their newly discovered magical abilities to kill for a sadistic father? It’s almost too ‘sci - fi’ for Akira to believe that he’s actually living through it right now. Although he was never a huge fan of the Star Wars series, he could appreciate the parallelism - if Luke decided to work for his father. 

Speaking of work, should he offer to help set up? Akira, again, wasn’t the best at cooking, so he probably wouldn’t be of much help there. Still, it would be nice of him to at least sweep, or something. He gets up, done eating, to grab the broom off of its hook on the wall. ( Sweeping was fun; he liked sweeping, especially when he and Goro divided the chores and he got to do the floors. ) But as he attempts to enter the back of the cafe, Sojiro appears before him with a scolding look on his face.

“I was just-” He’s never felt fear like this, and still felt safe at the same time.

“No excuses; brats aren’t allowed in my space.” He heads back to the stove, watching Akira sit back down in his peripheral vision. “More curry?” If you try anything again I’ll make you craft the perfect cup, until you can make one to match my standards.” That was completely reasonable; Akira had no doubt that this would be one of the easier missions he would have to accomplish this year.

Noon - 4/25

How long had he been following her? On foot, it would have to amount to at least a few hours. After the train ride to Shibuya, Goro had to use his true detective skills to make absolutely certain that she wouldn’t notice him. Trailing behind by a couple hundred yards was the solution, then, so now he held back in the furthest alley. Now that he was looking around, waiting for Niijima - san to get off her phone and continuing walking, he noticed that this area was awfully familiar. Goro never paid much mind to the environment around his apartment complex, yet some of these street names looked to be the same ones on his billing information. 

Why would she be heading the direction of his home? - No, he shouldn’t be assuming anything such as that. Shibuya was a very big place, and even just on Central Street alone there had to be at least two dozen shops she could be heading to. It was rather stupid of him to assume that his was the only building in all of Shibuya. ( It gives him little pleasure to think of Akira making the same mistake; surely he’d be able to hold it over his head much more had the ghost been here. )

Niijima finally begins walking again, still with her hand on her cell. He finds himself ever so grateful at what a wonderful day it is, in terms of weather. Though, even with the low temperature, he still finds himself weary of walking. It certainly wasn’t as bad as traveling through the metaverse, god no, but while shifting through the throngs of locals mulling around and hiding behind dark brick walls Goro had grown bored of the chase. Could it even be called a “chase” at this point? The older woman hadn’t yet realised that he was following her, so she wasn’t exactly running from him, and he wasn’t exactly chasing after her, so it seemed that - for now - the most exciting term for his activity as of now would be a brisk walk. Like they were on a jog together, only one of them following a block behind with the one in front having absolutely no knowledge that they were jogging together. It’s a kind of sweet image, now that he thinks about it.

Goro makes a silent deal with himself: if he has to walk any more than two more hours, he’d be heading towards his own. Fair enough, he thinks, even though it might pain him greatly to waste his entire morning without learning a single goddamn thing. Although - it might be a good idea to try and put Akira up to this, whenever he needed the ghost out of the apartment. It wasn’t guaranteed, though, that the younger boy would even remember halfway through the mission what he was supposed to be doing. 

Niijima stops in front of a tall building, and Goro hides behind a loud group of teenage girls to disguise him, in case she makes the attempt to look over this way. He pulls out his own device hoping to make a short note soon. “The building was old,” he wrote. “And looks to be residential. The street name is…” The street name is his own street name. This is the street he lives on. There were only residential blocks in this area; so who was Niijima visiting?

By the number on the side of the apartment complex, which was a little faded and dusted, Goro’s face fell. All hope he had in the case was long lost. The building was his. Ah, was it possible she lived in the same building as he did, now? Last time he had inquired about her living, she had told him that she lived with her younger sister in her parent’s old home in a ward past Aoyama. Even if she were only visiting a friend - she had no other living family members for him to expect her to see - there was great interest in the thought that Niijima surely knew that Goro lived in this exact complex. It’s a frightening idea to think that she knew he was pursuing her, leading him to his own home like a reverse ambush. 

It seemed, luckily, that that was not the cause, because soon she knocks on the door right beside his own, from what he can see from the side - walk view. Perhaps, have he enough dare in his bones left, he should walk up the steps into his own apartment. ( maybe Akira would be there now. ) There was a slight chance that he would be able to hear them through the thin, breaking down drywalls. Again, only if he had the luck of the universe to aid him still. 

With the opening of the door, that he can only hear since his head is inclined in a particular way, his gaze is diverted to the light emerging from the near home. Ah, well. What reason would his coworker have for making a solicitation with his neighbor? His closest neighbor, in fact, and one of the only ones that he can recall talking to within his residing here. Mildly problematic, Goro was sure. If he still had the ingredients for a dessert pie, then maybe he could bake the elder one, to entice her into sharing the secret details of the womens’ meeting. 

The stairs were rickety, violent, as he climbed up them. Each step felt like a mile with the door still ajar - he had to keep quiet. Or: was it more suspicious to be sneaking around in his own housing district? That may be something to get a second opinion on. A railing fell between his fingers, pressed into his palm with as much vigor as he could muster so that he could balance his weight off of his feet. 

“Sae, how are you?” The older lady’s voice is soft, yet it carries across to the stairwell. “I get so lonely out here, you know. Even though it’s right in the middle of the city… I can just barely manage to get away from my work enough to make my morning walk around the neighborhood.” Goro blocks her out now, since it seems the relationship the two have is one based on making small talk before getting to the good stuff. Equally as boring as the silent, mental counting in the detective’s head of how many days until Shido’s election - and his subsequent downfall. 

Well, the actual counting was the boring part. Waiting. But, assuredly, nothing about the deed he’s been planning, performing for since the beginning of time, was to be the highlight of his life. 

“Come in, please! You’ll be so pleased when you hear what new information I have for you.” Is the conversational dialogue finally over? Perfect timing, as he’s just now rounding the top of the stairs. His key is ready in his hand, poised to be used. The door to his apartment is only a foot away, nearing closer, right in the grasp of his fingertips - when his hearing adjusts, picks up on just a quick sentence shared between the others in the home next door;

It’s a split from the tone they had taken earlier, of the attempt at being a comforting sort of familiar. Goro wants to be able to roll his eyes, gasp, something that would display to any outsider that he genuinely cares about hearing what they were discussing. It mattered to him - greatly that Niijima says, seemingly out of the blue:

“Kurusu’s gone again.”

How was she supposed to know that? Why didn’t he know that? If it meant what he - correctly - assumed it meant, then Akira wouldn’t be much help in this recent investigative process. And for the woman to know his name, she must’ve been watching the apartment or talking to that neighbor about more things than morning walks for a while. How many other tenants was she working with? Was any part of the building sfe? Were the police going to call for a warrant, for an invasion, or anything that would convince them even more that Goro wsa housing a dead man in his apartment? He hadn’t been very careful; he knows that, that much was obvious. He’d let Akira walk around Tokyo on his own, let him go to Shujin without giving him a false name, and let him make friends with the weirdos around Shibuya without concealing a facet of his identity. Of course someone was going to find the pieces, put two and two together, and come to the true conclusion. Akira was dead, not just to Inaba, but to the entire world. Even if they didn’t know his name, he was not supposed to be walking the land of the living if things were going the way they were balanced. 

Swiftly, in an almost juxtaposition from his manner of the last hour, Goro unlocks the door, shoves the key deep into his pocket, and heads in. Now, with the shared wall between them, he can hear every whisper and footstep and gasp. The words he had heard earlier still rest in his mind, heavy, like a farm that relies on a wheel overfilled with water. He can think through this - can ignore the anxiety coating his palms for just another second to hear anything else that needs to be said.

Niijima talks rushed, with her tongue between her teeth and half of her body out of the conversation. He can immediately tell that her mind is not fully into it, just by the way she answers to every word the other woman says. Lots of nodding and pursed lips, Goro presumes. No other mentions of Akira in the next few pauses, so he lets his body relax slightly, putting his briefcase onto the kitchen table. Now, the most he could do was muster about some of his abundant patience to wait for anything else conercing to be spoken of. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how he was feeling as he thought it over, he didn’t have to wait for long. 

A pause, a half breath, and then Niijima is leaning against the wall between them, sighing out a sentence. “Shido won’t tell me how Akechi and Kurusu are accomplishing any of this, unfortunately. It seems like it’s all a game to him - setting up both of his players opposite of the same casino, to see who could make it to the winning pot first.” What an odd comparison, he thinks, especially coming out of such a logically - oriented prosecutor. He decides instantly, in some subconscious state of his brain, that those words hadn’t been hers to begin with. ( And it wasn’t like Shido to say anything in such a round - a - bout way, so it had to be someone not involved in this particular case. )

“So, you really are working with him.” The woman sounds breathless, in awe. How could anyone be ‘in awe’ at the prospect of someone they know working for that crooked politician? It was completely foriegn to him to hear anyone speak of the man without a certain level of pre malice to their voice. Goro suspects, however, that the surprise leaking through could me accounting for the same surprise he’s feeling - the point of Niijima legitimately working for Shido. Hopefully. It was unheard of for him too, afterall. 

A tapping - against the tile or the wall? - and Niijima is speaking again. “It’s only for now, until I can figure out how to solve this case on my own.” Goro inwardly gags; that false sense of justice is so deplorable, it almost makes him sick. “I will capture them, no matter the cost.”

She makes it sound so easy, but that’s only because she has no fucking idea about the amount of information she’s missing. The older woman wasn’t weak by any definition, as much as Goro willed her to be; he could admit that she held slight promise as his worldly opponent. However, the metaverse was his - Niijima will never set foot in Mementos or a palace, will never know of his actions there. While he’s not quite sure of how she’s come across the details she already had, he was positive that it was only due to Shido’s interception, not her own mind. Goro sets his elbow down the row of cabinets along that shared wall, resting his chin in his hand while he willed himself to only be amused by the overheard conversation.

He’s growing a little bored, of course, and he doesn’t think they’ll say anything else of great importance. More discussions of their daily activities, like they’re stupid idiots that have time for daily actvities. What he sort of wanted to forget, yet willed himself to commit to memory: Niijima suspected him and Akira of the mental shutdowns, psychotic episodes. She was working with Shido, which was certainly how she came across this conclusion. Definitely. As well, Goro bites his lip in anguish as he remembers, Niijima was aware that Akira - while dead - had disappeared. That only meant that he was a ghost again, probably, and not that she knew of their actions in her little section of Mementos. ( He still had to go find Akira, first, to address all of this with him. )

Noon - 4/25

No matter how much school he missed, it seemed that Shujin would continue having Akira. It’s halfway through the school day, he’s just arrived, and he’s still only half sure that others can even see him. It was probably the last place that Goro would come looking for him, he thinks, although he knows that that was the cruelest thing he could’ve done right now. Did the other know that Akira had heard him? Maybe he’s in even more pain than the ghost, right now, having to worry that he was all alone again just because he had accidentally shared some of his ambitions. As twisted as the truth of the whole situation was, they had a real bond, one that Akira couldn’t just walk away from when he grew scared. 

It’s decided, he supposes - a day at Shujin, to settle his mind, and then he’ll be at the apartment tonight. Like he hadn’t even gone, tried to run away. The talk with Sojiro had most definitely helped make his feelings on the subject more concrete, less illegible. His walk to the classroom was slow, as if he had the time to dally. ( Although, in the grand scheme of things, how would being late a few extra minutes really affect him all that much more? )

The classroom is quiet, he’s worried to step wrongly when he comes in, opening the door. He still finds himself a little grateful, though, that when the student’s lift their head to view the intruder, the slight recognition is visible in their eyes. Ann, especially, from the other side of the room looks incredibly pleased to see him, although just a bit confused, too. He looks to Kawakami, with her short brown hair and increasingly disappointed frown, and she nods to him to go take a seat. That’s one anxiety point out of the way. Akira likes to think positively about these sorts of things.

“Wh-How’re you back so soon?” The blonde sounds astounded even at such a low volume, and he has to make an effort to stifle a giggle. From his earlier explanation, it was perfectly acceptable of her to be as confused as humanly possible. Goro always complained that he was never good at teaching things. “I’m not the only one that can see you, right?

He shakes his head, hopefully subtly. “I think everyone can see me right now. But I-” A kid to the side of them glances towards them, a menacing look in their eyes. It wouldn’t do good to get the whole class in trouble because he wanted friendly advice right at this very moment. “I’ll ask you later.”

A faint sound of agreement, and he faces his full attention towards the board. Some philosophy, if Akira’s reading the quotes right. It was always something much more Goro’s speed, something he himself had been intrigued by but never had the time or intelligence to get into. None of it is extraordinarily exciting, either, which is something the ghost finds himself needing in a day - to - day life. Not much adrenaline was released at the thought of reading dead people’s ideas towards the meaning of existing and arguing about who was the most right - for him, at least. 

Kawakami is teaching, he thinks, standing at the desk in the front of the classroom with the stance of a tired teacher ( isn’t that what she was? ) and the exasperated expression of someone who really regretted waking up that morning. Aira feels a little pity for her, honestly, because what kind of school makes a helpless teacher talk to an entire room of obnoxious teeangers about philosophy? Not his first pick for a way to spend his days. 

When a lull crosses over the classroom in a wave, Akira pulls his attention back away from the blackboard, watching as almost all of the students avoid Kawakami’s gaze with admittedly surprising concentration. She must’ve asked a question. Was it of any importance? Probably not. ( If he was called on, humiliating himself since he wasn’t paying attention, he could do as any other teen wished and disappear. Legit. ) Even still, though, he’d rather not be asked to answer it. A philosophical question, either on his stance or about something related, would be too difficult for him to answer with his limited speaking abilities. If only Goro was in this class.

“Takamaki, do you know the answer? The common usage of kakushinhan, regarding an action you take?” Oh, hold on - hasn’t Morgana mentioned this before? His partner had told him about a time where he and the cat were looking for him, when Akira had been investigating Kamoshida’s palace, and he had openly questioned the detective’s moral compass. He hadn’t seen the cat in a while, probably buried in metaverse work somewhere in a corner of the metaverse. “You just have to give me the definition.” 

It seemed like she didn’t know the answer, with the sudden stillness of her pigtails and the lifting of the hairs on the back of her neck. He can help out, as long as Kawakami doesn’t hear him whispering to Ann. 

Tapping the back of her chair, he gains her attention - quickly, Akira has to shove at her back lightly to keep her from fully turning around to face him. Although he’s never been the best whisperer, he’s always been terrified of being caught breaking the academic integrity he had vowed to uphold, so it was of the utmost importance to him that he excelled in this mini - mission. 

“Conviction that you’re right.” Was that quiet enough? The student from earlier hadn’t turned around again to glare at him, so Akira assumed it was fine. Ann had heard him, too, inferred by the weight dropping off her shoulders in a mere breath. 

“Conviction that you are right.” She says it so matter - of - factly that the ghost, even, would be surprised to hear that she hadn’t known the answer prior to a split second ago. Akira was almost proud of her; though that may not be the right word to express how he felt about her correctly announcing his words to the class. It didn’t really matter, anyways.

Kawakami says something about the answer being correct, waving off her own mildly dazed look. Akira goes to staring out the window now; Goro was on the forefront of his mind, as always, but at this moment he was also coupled with thoughts of the metaverse. Was the detective even in reality right now? Knowing that might not be super valuable to him, yet he’s still trying to figure out how to go about the whole deal.

Shido being Goro’s father? Eh - Akira can get behind that. Even with absolutely no resemblance between the two, he can tell that it is very much the truth. Goro works for Shido, despite - or maybe because - him being his father; more or less a point of study that the ghost can’t exactly wrap his head around is the fact that he’s almost sort of working with Shido, as well. What was the point of even keeping Akira alive? Shido had murdered him, with intention or no, and Goro’s apparent job had only been to dispose of the body. 

Kakushinhan - it seemed plausible that they might’ve started living by that. They had killed people, souls in the metaverse, under Shido’s law, yet did they feel bad? Of course, Akira may not pride himself on a completely clean conscience but he’s certain his morals are at least in the top eightieth percentile for his age group. Also, he’s dead, so ethics are a little iffy. 

Talking to Goro should be his top priority, which it was - he was already in understanding of that; was he mentally stalling? Obviously, he had to be, or else he would’ve made some excuse up to leave Shujin early or take up Sojiro’s second suggestion - that was to find the detective immediately and hash everything out in a passionate, explosery type of confrontation. 

Afternoon - 4/25

Niijima had left, the neighbor had retreated back into the corner of her apartment, and Goro had taken to sulking in his most comfortable chair. A cup of chai rests on the side table to his right, but he has yet to take a sip. Where would Akira be, at this moment? He was sure to be plotting something with those other - useless - metaverse users. That was the only other explanation, besides them having a fight that Goro was somehow involved in but didn’t remember. Evidence: ..he didn’t exactly have much.

Inaba, somewhere he could check if Akira was missing for more than a few days; Yongen - Jaya, too, was much more likely. It was also a place that he could be investigating around right now, if he wanted to be. He really should, actually, as the ace detective of Japan, Goro should be well aware by now that when his enemy says that their suspect is his own partner, then he should make use of his day off and find him before she did. Necessary? Indeed.

He’s grabbing his coat and briefcase before his feet can even register being on the floor, opening and locking the door with a speed and intensity he’s surprised the creaking hinge can handle. Although he’s not quite sure where he’s headed, his body leads him to the first train with a destination. Yongen. Goro supposes he could go there. There’s a lead somewhere around there, anyways, for one of his active cases, less important than the shutdowns, though. ( Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to be a detective that solved cases he hadn’t created. Most of the ones in his repertoire lately had been those kind, by order of Shido; it might’ve looked nice, possibly, to see so many that were deemed unsolvable, solutions found by Goro. It’s only because he’s so very clever - unlike all of the other deranged criminals in the country, he actually knew how to cover his tracks - so where there appeared to be no evidence, he could make something up only because he was so intimate with the real details of the scene. Would he be any good if he didn’t? If he hadn’t been there first - hand? )

Train stops, he gets out. Mindless. Nobody recognizes him thankfully; maybe they do, but don’t interact, pushed away by the maddened haze washing over his expression. Anyone was bound to be grateful for that much, at least. Akira wouldn’t be hard to find, with nobody’s attention on him; and there were only so many places he could be in the town. Obviously: the first stop was LeBlanc.

Quiet, cozy - those were probably descriptors people looked for in their favourite coffee shops. LeBlanc was that, he supposed, a perfect example of a place such as that. All of Yongen, almost, was sort of like that - separated so strongly from the rest of Tokyo’s atmosphere that it would be better off to call it an entity completely apart. Breath of fresh air, the optimistic folks would refer to it as, though Goro would be much more inclined to suffocate them if they said that aloud. 

LeBlanc was nice, he figured, so he didn’t exactly mind that he had to go looking for Akira there. Sakura - san was bound to have some sort of clue, old man insight, right? He hoped so, greatly, since it completely messed with his schedule if he had to take more than this afternoon to discover the ghost’s whereabouts. The door opens with a chime, and the sudden shift in atmosphere sends a chill down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was kinda weak sryy i'll make it up to u


	13. goro respects no one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! finally have a solid, set number of chapters <3 this fic should most likely be done early-mid december, but i have a huge project lined up for 2021 so i hope ur excited about that !!

Noon - 4/25

Sakura - san stood behind the counter, as was ordinary in his profession. The obnoxious black cat lazed on the counter, swinging its tail in time to counter the owner’s swats for him to move to the floor. Presently, it seemed that they hadn’t noticed him yet, even with the echoes of the bell playing through the cafe for another few seconds. 

The television played on in the background, as Goro stood by the door clutching at his briefcase. There wasn't any clue in his sight that showed promise of relating to Akira’s probable visit - would Morgana tell him anything, if we were to ask? Nothing ensured that the ghost and the cat had even been in the same vicinity today at all. Just his kind of luck, supposedly. With Sakura- san, though, the answers he received would range depending on the angle he pursued them at. 

“Excuse me…” Some sort of political conference is running now, and the detective has to hide the clenching of his fists when Shido comes into view, speaking of topics he has no proper say in. “Good day. May I inquire about someone that might’ve come by, earlier today?” 

He liked to be exceedingly formal with adults, especially those in the position to spit in his coffee. However, in this case, it would most likely make him sound more suspicious, prying crudely while attempting to be at least a little considerate. It did make sense to morph his usual tactic to fit the cafe owner’s own style of conversation - yet Goro didn’t change for just anyone. Obviously, the chance of the question backfiring was high, especially considering-

“No. If that lady needs something, tell her to send her own ass out to interrogate me,” Sakura says, just as the detective worried. He still thought Niijima and he were working together on some case delving into the man’s personal life. ( Knowing what Akira had told him about the Sakura household, Goro figured that the prosecutor had been looking into information on his teenage ward, her wellbeing. Sakura must think he wants to know about that too. Could he use that against him? )

Goro shifted his grip on his case, smiling the most his tired face could manage. “That’s not why I’m here, sir. I’m only trying to ask if Akira’s been here.” He should talk more. “I haven’t seen him since last night, and I know he came here a few days ago - making the rounds, looking around of that sort. If he got a deplorable answer now, it would mean that Akira really was missing; what path should he take then? No, that was a question that he could ask after all other options had been cleared.

Morgana turns toward his voice, his whiskers veering back with an unmistakable solicitude- even in full cat form he had a face that was remarkably easy to read. He’s stalking off the counter, headed straight to Goro. He wonders, quickly, if Sakura - san can hear the cat; surely not, correct? It appeared to be a metaverse conundrum, a product of their cognition of Morgana, that allowed them to hear him speak. 

Sakura turns off a coffee dripper. “And you want to know...why? Are you concerned over him?” Was he? Of course he was. Why would the other assume he was there for any different reason? “Maybe if you answer a few of my questions, I’ll tell you if I’ve seen him or not. The cafe’s empty right now, after all, and I’m willing to entertain you.” 

That was better than he had expected, with everything considered. Sakura was an undeniably kind soul, yet he was still a person that willed himself to withstand tricks of the spoiled and protected his own from deception. Even when it might not have been needed, the coffee shop owner was careful, considerate, calculating. What would this detective do with that information? Goro knew that answer: he, admittedly, was mildly anxious due to not knowing the whereabouts of his friend. It was out of character, however, so it made perfect sense to him that Sakura - san would be so questioning of it. If even he could read himself in that light, it would be odd for the other to be completely ignorant of the darker possibilities.

“What are your questions?” Requests? He doubted Sakura would have anything in mind that would be impossible, or even remotely hard, to answer, but they might be rather complex. ( For such a kind man, he seemed to enjoy riddles, and figuring out the inner workings of people’s hearts. He appeared someone generally uncomfortable with those sorts of things, which proved just how well Goro could be misled by appearances. )

“What is Akira to you?” Starting off strongly, it seemed. How did one answer that, without admitting that they were lying to themselves? - Which, of course, Goro was pointedly not lying to himself. If he wasn’t patient, then he was honest, especially in his own head. Besides, what would he truly gain from deceiving himself? Except a whole lot of headache, absolutely nothing. 

Goro doesn’t want to answer that. Akira was his friend, maybe more than a friend, maybe a rival - in terms of friendly, spirited competition. “To me, Akira is Akira, obviously. I suppose we’re roommates, classmates. Friends, maybe.” Companions, confidants - those might be closer to describing their relationship. Except for a few tense moments between the two, it wasn’t possible to elucidate their alliance with romantic terms. And Goro doesn’t think of himself as particularly friendly.

Sakura places a hot mug onto the counter, gesturing for the detective to sit down. “Not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” Did that mean he was done? With just a question? That’s completely fine with Goro, as he tapped his foot with total indifference. He had places to be, though - that was the thing - and he couldn’t spend all his time waiting on Sakura - san to give up his game and answer his queries.

Goro clears his throat. “Was Akira visiting LeBlanc earlier?” Maybe if he re-words the question, he’ll get his desired response. “Do you have any idea of where he would be? I- I was at work this morning, but I hadn’t seen him last night - I only assumed he had something to do in the evening, and he hadn’t mentioned going into town or anything…” Was he rambling? He was rambling. The conversation didn’t require that level of information, yet it was possible that saying this would enable Sakura’s questioning to ebb away.

“Yes,” It’s a sigh. “I’m not telling you where he went, since I believe he needs a day alone, but I can admit that he was here. We talked.” Goro takes his first sip of the coffee, grateful that the fruits of his efforts have finally fallen. The bitterness he had felt, almost a rival to the goddess Juno’s after the arrival of the Trojans to Carthage, dissipated as his frown loosened. To discover that Akira had been in LeBlanc hadn’t exactly been a revelation, yet it was shockingly reassuring to hear.

“It’s really only been about half a day, give or take a few hours. There’s no need for me to worry.” Goro places his fingers on his chin, staring into the mid - distance. “Yes, there’s no need to worry. I know where he is now. Thank you for your aid, Sakura - san.” 

After Goro had ventured through the door of LeBlanc, Morgana trailing after him with a mouthful of comments and suggestions. Yongen was empty, mostly, at this time of day, which meant that he was free to respond back to the other. He did not wish to, though, so he ignored that freedom.

“How did you lose him?” The cat’s nose twitched. “Where are we going now?” Goro wanted to slap him - or himself, at least, to get rid of the pesky migraine brewing. They were headed wherever Akira was most likely to be, obviously. If the stupid thing can’t come up with some sort of idea as to where that could be, then the detective was sorely mistaken to ever once think that Morgana would have been a formidable opponent. 

Shujin, by Goro’s estimates, would be the next best place to check, outside of the metaverse. ( He didn’t have the strength to put together a trip down there just yet. ) They had recently enrolled, and even if they hadn’t been fully engaged with the whole concept of making the academy their next mission grounds, it still made an awful lot of sense for Akira to have gone there. He mentally notes, while still focusing on ignoring Morgana, that he really needed to get the other a phone fast. 

Afternoon - 4/25

Akira carries on throughout the school day, surprisingly. Nothing honestly happens, except a little misplaced skepticism in Ryuji’s voice when the ghost shows back up with promise of showing them something amazing. Mementos was the promise, after all, and by his calculations he always felt better after even just a short trip to the underground, twisted version of Tokyo. There was something there he wanted to look into, after all.

Makoto passed by them a few times in the hallway, but she didn’t smile. Or wave. Or really acknowledge that they were there besides the slight twitch of her right eye. Ryuji didn’t seem to mind as much as Akira did, which led him to believe that it wasn’t a big deal to be ignored like that in a school setting.

“Niijima’s a busy body - I don’t think she has the time to wave to people she barely knows during school hours.” The blond continues to reassure the ghost that it was most certainly not a personal thing, Makoto not greeting him. 

Akira wonders, almost out loud, how things could’ve been if he had met Ryuji earlier. If he had met him first. It’s a silly thought, and he can acknowledge that with great self - awareness; and yet he can’t keep himself from thinking about the unimportant factors in their current situation. Goro and Ryuji were two very different confidants, quite even polar opposites, but he found himself drawn to the both of them in such similar ways. Their strengths, both inside and outside of the metaverse, were near perfect renderings of their dual personalities, even though he hadn’t seen much of the blond in the other world up to this point. 

Akira’s jolted by the sudden influx of the crowd, conjoined around the academy’s partillion. “Are you ready? It might be a little much.” He only adds that last little bit in to sanctify his already solid view of Ryuji’s steadfast character. From the little details he had dished out about Mementos throughout the day, it was obvious that the cost to get him to change his mind was awfully high.

“Hell yes, dude!” Ryuji exclaims, clapping a hand to Akira’s back. They should find Ann soon, he figures, so they can all go together; Goro might not be all too happy about him doing this behind his back, but he had a lead he needed the other’s help to look into. He hadn’t had much time by himself to do any real investigating, but he watched enough tv programs to have a slight idea.

After contacting Ann from Ryuji’s phone, they head to the train station. She’d had a model gig to get to as soon as school ended - but luckily, it had been cancelled and she was free to indulge the boys in whatever dangerous sport they were attempting to rope her into. 

There were other things he had to worry about right now, for sure. Reconciling with Goro was at the top of that list, but it seemed equally important at this moment to lead his acquaintances to the mess he’d been trapped in since his death. In the case that there was nothing new to discover in the metaverse, then he would begin to act on his more logical thinking and head back to their apartment. Hopefully the pair he’s dragging around are fine with his half - baked planning systems.

Afternoon - 4/25

In spring, the weather is just starting to heat up again. So why does it feel like a hundred degrees outside, in Aoyama station? Akira’s only standing right in front of him with the blondes by his side, absently staring into a matter of space beyond Goro’s shoulder. The cat curls around the ghost’s foot. The detective wonders if they’ve been here before. He wouldn’t remember. There’s so many trains, so many stations - so much stopping and going that Goro’s not sure when he’s moving or not. There’s a look in Akira’s eyes that he doesn’t recognise, but that doesn’t stop him from going up and chastising him for everything that had worried him in the past hours.

“You weren’t going to tell me where you were going?” School would’ve gotten out by now, of course, and if Akira was going to use the logic of how Goro should’ve just assumed he had gone to class - like the good boy he is - then he was going to have to pull them out of this train station to avoid drawing a scene. By the bulging duffel bag Takamaki was carrying and the uneasy way that Sakamoto bounced from foot to foot , the detective felt that he could easily assume they were headed to a palace. But, whose?

Akira glances down to the ground, where Morgana is whispering something up into the air - obviously talking absolute shit about Goro. It wasn’t his fault that the entire walk here had been filled with hostile tension. “Uh, well. You can join us, if you want?” The ghost is avoiding eye contact furiously, for whatever estranged reason. The others harbour some sort of animosity in their gaze, yet Goro can’t answer to it. A long overdue talk, a hesitating step forward, and a gesture of his hand to continue walking.

It was a bit alarming to see how the three of them were following him with such suspicious looks in their eyes. Fearful? Knowing? Goro’s not sure that suspicious is the right word.

They’re still in a train station, a few moments later, yet it’s now dark and cold and damp. They look around as if in a field, reach to their toes to watch the flower buds shield the grass from their soles. Goro is sure enough that Akira had been planning a trip to Mementos in the first place, so he doesn't let himself fret over making them come. Even if he has no idea why the ghost trembles away from Goro’s touch, metres away from where he usually stands right by his side, the detective allows that disconnect to grow - at least until the stupidly weak supporting background characters leave them be.

“What is this place?” The blonde sounds awed and disgusted in the same tone. No one that Goro knew personally would openly admit to wanting to hit a woman, but he may have to be that outlier. He’s being provoked deliberately, surely.

“Akira,” -Joker, Sakamoto reminds him noisily. What the hell were the codenames even for? “What’s the plan?” He’s almost completely positive that he managed to keep the malice lacing his voice to a minimum. Not out of anger, of course not, Goro still finds himself shaking with some sort of...something (he can’t find the name,) each time Akira denies a conversation. They should be arriving to wherever ‘Joker’ was trying to lead them, so maybe he would only be forced to wait until then.

More to the ground and Morgana than anyone else, he answers with a sharp - clipped - reply: “There’s someone here I’m worried about, and I would appreciate help. If you’re all willing?” He waits with his eyebrows screwed for a few nods. He doesn’t turn to Crow. “Mementos is something of the public conscience; it’s crawling with shadows, like a palace, but it doesn't have a main ruler or treasure tied to it. At least, none that we’ve been able to find.” He waits with his eyebrows screwed for a few nods. He doesn’t turn to Crow. “Mementos is something of the public conscience; it’s crawling with shadows, like a palace, but it doesn't have a main ruler or treasure tied to it. At least, none that we’ve been able to find.”

Goro listens to the explanation with the majority of his focus, even though he had been destroying souls in the underground version of Tokyo's subways longer than literally anyone, probably. Akira might be bluffing through some parts, such as when Takamaki (Panther, his traitorous mind supplies) asks why people with distorted desires don't automatically get their own palace. Akira can't mention anything about killing without the two hounding him, so he plays it safe and gives a tale of relatively bad people turning good.

If every 'bad' person had a palace, Mementos would be empty.

While starting down the tracks, Morgana lets out a low whine. "You serious, Joker? This is how you've been travelling - on foot? There's no grace, or style, or speed!" What the hell was he going on about now? Nothing they were doing right now was out of the norm for their regular visits to the metaverse.

The cat does something weird; gas, or something, pours from below his feet for just a second before - The cat's a bus. Morgana's a bus, now. Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be able to turn into a vehicle? Goro's aversion for the little mascot - looking thing grows more unstable. He claims to be a real person, but he can pull off stunts like this in the metaverse? There must be a way to look further into this, someone or something that can answer that question. Right now, though, he just wants the lame way Akira is acting to disappear.

Not that he's really acting in any new manner, no; it's only that, now, he's catering to the absolute emptiness of Sakamoto and Takamaki's minds. Why else would he bring them here, if not to finally go forth with the proclamation Goro made when they first met? ( "If anyone else finds out about the metaverse, I've been ordered to kill them. You must be ready for that, and remain cautious." ) As lovely as that would be, he doubts that the ghost had such a major change of heart.

"So, Crow, man," Sakamoto begins as they slide beside each other in the Morgana - turned - suburban. He wishes he had taken the driver's seat before Akira had claimed it. "What kinda powers do you got? I mean, you're obviously powerful, having a persona for, like, two years -" Who told him that?

Goro's eyes widened; he could hear Akira's teeth click together in front of him. "Who told you that? How'd you find that out?" The answer was obvious, he supposed. There was no one else who knew such trivial details of his life, and absolutely no chance that the blond figured that out himself. Keep it together, he told himself, for it would do no good to Kougan the others inside of the cat - car.

From the passenger seat, Takamaki jumps up to turn around. "'Akira' didn't tell us anything you didn't already subconsciously want us to know." With her completely monotonous acting and cute little quotes around Akira's name, Goro became glad he wasn't driving. They all would've crashed just then because of the strong tremors, running down his forearms at the mere thought of what she was implicating.

There were two separate ideas forming, their growths out of proportion with the time advancing, by the second she finished her riddle. The dismality around Akira's name could simply mean that the idiots had talked to someone else, but that they knew Goro would immediately assume that their mutual friend spilled. On the other hand, the use of quotations and the phrase "subconsciously" smelled like trouble. Like absolute dog shit. Had they spoken to Akira's shadow? How would they have been able to explore Mementos with enough skill to find someone with no ill feelings? And why would they be announcing that with Akira in the car with them? They were utter idiots, of course, yet Goro wanted to at least give them the benefit of the doubt. There had to be some sort of strategy at work here.

"I wasn't aware Akira had a presence here in Mementos, nor that the two of you had ever been close enough to find it." Good; make sure they knew what he had deciphered, but insult them in the same sentence. "Is there anything else it told you?" Akira's head spins toward the windshield as a shadow marches into view. Goro hadn't been aware that the ghost had been watching them converse with such high attention.

Sakamoto shifts in his seat, and the detective has the sudden urge to stab his red beak straight into the blond's eye. He doesn't, on pure self control ( or self - preservation. ) "No, no, we didn't speak to Akira's evil twin or some shit. We just found a huge room filled with plants and talked to someone that looked like you in there." Well, that was slightly unexpected. What was he supposed to do with that information? How is he supposed to make heads from tails with Sakamoto's disgustingly casual styles of speaking?

"Goro has a palace?" His voice cracks, and Goro clenches his fists to avoid moving them without implicit permission. Akira had driven past the first shadow, but he stops at a dead end now, facing the stone wall. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel; Morgana makes a sound of pain. He's afraid, obviously, yet Sakamoto and Takamaki carry on the illusion of a calm discussion.

"No clue whose it was, dude," Sakamoto runs a hand through his hair. Goro fights against the need to chop it off. "You were real nice, though. Told us about your childhood, which - sorry 'bout that, you really had it rough," the sudden change in his tone is startling, and if he was any lesser a man, he might've started apologizing for disrupting the other's happy life. "Wasn't yours; that's for sure. Morgana told us the name, but I've never really had the best memory. My mom says - " 

He's almost grateful when the girl breaks his rambling off. She may not have been up to their levels, but he appreciates the lack of apeness in this new - temporary - coworker. There's a stark difference between how those two interacted versus how Akira and Goro treated each other. However, he can't name that change. 

"It was a woman, and it sounded kind of familiar." He can see Akira's shoulders visibly lose that bit of retained tension, but the ghost gains it back in the spot between his eyebrows. "We figured it was your shadow instead of just normal you when it smiled. Also the yellow eyes. Morgana suggested we talk to it, so, uh, we did." That was quite the revelation. It really wasn't a surprise to hear that Morgana had pulled that whole scenario the way he wanted it to go. 

But he focused on the mention of a woman. They talked - they being the cat and the blonds - to a shadow version of himself, learned things that this woman most likely had no right to know, and were now shoving it in his face. At first, he had wondered if that palace and the knowledge they had required were the reasons Akira had been so blatantly avoiding him. However, with the younger boy's reaction to hearing this, pale and wide - eyed, Goro's ninety - nine percent positive that he had no part in visiting some strange woman's heart. ( The detective says strange, but he's already narrowed down a list of suspects to about three - and - a - half people. )

Akira carries down the tracks, looking back every so often to make sure they're getting along. The shadows don't bother them as they travel further into Akzeriyyuth, mostly watching. Goro's body burns for action, and it only grows when they stop in front of a mess of a Mementos entryway portal. It seemed there was an opponent that the ghost had had in mind for a destination.

It was really rather odd, trying to reach out to the ghost for a pat to the shoulder before the coming battle and feeling him tense up under his fingers. Maybe they were both, equally, as tied up in their own adrenaline, ready to rush into whatever fight was lined up for them. After this, then, when they were exhausted and sweaty and sore, the time to talk would finally appear to them with spots of glitter and a fairy to tell them to stop fucking around. Hopefully, the hidden issue they were having was going to be fixable by then - even with the others trailing after them, it was likely to be an argument more than a talk.

"Stay close. You're not going to need your weapons." Goro pauses, taken aback by just Akira's tone of voice, and then a second time by what he's commanding. Was there not to be a fight? An epic - showdown with whatever secret enemy his partner has hand - picked special for this moment? Intrigue floods his bones further than his spiked aggression. There had to be a reason, a method to bring four metaverse users just to stay passive.

Sakamoto stops swinging his bat suddenly in mid - air, almost knocking himself across the forehead with the sharp tacks. Takamaki doesn’t seem as phased about the change in direction and steps to the side along with Morgana. Akira better know what he’s doing, leading these nouveau riche into a pacifist altercation.

Afternoon - 4/25

Nowhere in his original schedule had he included the detail of allowing the others into Niijima’s corner. Neither had his first or altered plan, written out having Goro joining him for this Mementos mission. As much as he wanted to deny it, though, to wallow in the pain Goro’s words yesterday had brought him, having the detective sit behind him the entire drive had been awfully nice.

Speaking of the drive, Akira didn’t think he’d ever be able to wrap his head around that little bit of metaverse logic. He’d never exactly driven before, so the fact that they hadn’t crashed or skidded into a wall even once despite the shock flooding through his veins was probably to be accounted completely towards Morgana’s own control. Though, as he begins thinking about it more and more, he realises that something within his subconscious was trying to distract him from his task at hand.

“Stay out here for eight - and - a - half minutes. If Morgana and I aren’t out by then, feel free to follow us,” he hears himself speaking, and it shocks him. His throat had felt too tight, his chest had felt too heavy, for his voice to sound so calm, directive, non - chalant. He had no idea how any of this was going to play out, or if Niijima - san was going to have anything to tell him that the palace owner hadn’t told the others before. 

Was Goro going to have to finally kill him after this? Most of the information Ryuji learned from his and Ann’s accidental entrance into that new palace had been things Akira had learned directly from the ace Detective Prince himself. There shouldn’t be much else to learn, especially nothing that he can learn in under five - hundred - and - ten seconds with Goro standing outside. The questions he really wanted to ask were ones that most likely couldn’t be answered by anyone besides the object himself, and even if they could be answered by the shadow, with Morgana there all inquiries had to be as neutral as possible. ( Besides, they had no clear idea of how interrogating one’s metaverse self would affect the person in reality. ) 

Morgana fiddles with his yellow ascot before putting a hand on Akira’s knee. “Ready” He doesn’t think he is, in the slightest, but he nods with a firm line of his lips and the want to look over his shoulder. They had to go in at some point, after all, and nothing good was going to happen if he continued to hesitate in front of Goro. The shadow might not have anything to tell him, but at least he’d get the change to reevaluate his reaction to hearing of his partner’s motives with a fresh perspective.

They walk through; Akira finds himself a little shocked when they emerge on the other side alone. Even though he had told the others to stay behind, it seemed that a part of him had still expected the group to remain. It said wonders about his commanding ability as a leader, yet spoke nothing he wanted it to about the team. Whatever - it was easier this way, anyways. He looks for the older woman now, dead set on coming back out with at least one new piece of Goro’s life.

She wasn’t in the center of the room brooding like she was yesterday. In fact, it appeared as if she wasn’t in the space at all. Goro hadn’t fully defeated her; had he? Makoto hadn’t seemed like someone whose sister, guarding, last living family member, had died. Or maybe he had forced a successful change of heart onto the prosecutor. That would definitely be a first, and most surely makes Akira feel worse about running out on him. He turns to ask Morgana what he thinks, for a second opinion, for extra assurance, when something large drops from the ceiling.

It’s for sure the same troll - like shadow from yesterday - Niijima - but much larger, with a much more sinister look in her yellow eyes. Her armour is thicker, covering her full neck now, and her weapons seem to be sharpened even more considerably. Uh, maybe becoming a pacifist for this moment was a rather ill choice. She must remember, somewhere within that mess of concentrated consciousness, that he had been present for most of her fight with Goro. Luckily, he thought to bring the cat, then, and hadn’t regretted that immediately - more than he actually had. If worse came to worse, if push came to shove, then Morgana would surely jump in with a wind attack or two or eighteen. Everything was going to be completely fine!

“Kurusu, looking alive is healthy on you!” It’s such an odd remark from the older woman that he has to bite his tongue to hold in a snort. That has to be her strategy, then, putting his guards to the side and giving him mild hopes of indulging him. If her plan was to defeat him in battle, then he can surely see it working against him perfectly. Honestly though, he has almost forgotten that he had been reverted recently. He was beginning to think of it as more of a curse.

Akira forgets that she shouldn’t have known his name. He’s not wearing a name tag right now, correct? “That’s kind of you to say, Niijima - san.” As a mask - wearing teenager with a loaded gun on his ip, the words probably don’t come off as politely as he had intended. “I just have a few questions for you, though, if you wouldn’t mind answering them.” Gor, was it wrong that a part of him hoped that she’d be offended just from the concept? None of this was necessary; he should just make out up with Goro and forget that he’d ever heard those rage fueled words.

Her head cocks to the side, exposing a sliver of skin behind her ear. “Oh, pray tell me, what’s on your mind?” She smiles like a hungry dog, staring at a meaty bone. He has to work to become anything but her food, it would appear. A shudder runs through him. Morgana grabs the tail of Akira’s coat. “I can see your gears turning, darling, and it seems exhausting. You’ll feel so much better if you get it off your chest as soon as possible. Also, I take it you don’t have much time to take, so you have my full attention from now until then.”

Stil, his heart rises to his throat. That shadow, while feigning the same kind air that Goro had perfected, was extremely intimidating - even while slinking along the back wall, the furthest possible position from the two intruders. It didn’t seem as bad of an idea to unload a little on Niijima’s shadow, before the time he had allotted for himself ran out. Akira improves his stance despite his own assurance that it won’t turn violent. Besides, he can multi - task if he has to; fighting and demanding answers at the same time. 

“What do you know of Akechi Goro?” It’s an easy question, and it slips off his tongue quickly. However, maybe it wasn’t as inconspicuous as he had hoped, as Morgana;s jaw clenches visibly beside him. Nothing in his voice had let out anything other than conversation; he had made sure of that. And yet the knowing look on the shadow’s face is enough to have Akira considering never talking again.

“Ah, is that what you’re interested in?” His hadn’t been a personal question. He hadn’t asked what she thought of Akechi Goro, not yet. Just of her general knowledge of the boy. “If that’s all, then I’m more than happy to help you.” A sly look emerges from the corners of her mouth, covering that fake kind expression from earlier. Akira decides that he’s had enough; coming here was a bad idea, staying for as long as he had planned, and even just thinking about asking questions. All absolutely horrid ideas, and there nothing he wanted to avoid more now than the situation he was in at this moment. Niijima - san was going to ask some god awful thing, expecting a sure answer, but he wasn’t going to be able to answer it truthfully in time and she was going to kill him - oh god, he was going to be killed.

Morgana steps in front of him, brandishing a look that wasn’t commonly seen of his fluffy face. Akira rubs the back of his shoulder with a vigor unneeded for any physical discomfort. He’s not quite sure what the other is planning on doing; nothing comes to mind, with Niijima’s shadow still prowling across the room and Akira’s orders of no offensive behaviors. His expression of confusion when the ghost had begun his interrogations with questions of the detective spoke wonders about the actual necessity of such answers. He’s about to turn and go, talk to Goro himself and make it known that he had shied away at the sight of a false treasure, when the cat shouts out to the enemy.

“You answer our questions first. Do you really think us incapable of defeating you?” The words sound eerily similar to something his partner would say in the face of a stronger opponent than he. “I’ll give you sixty seconds to give him a straight response and if you fail to do so, I promise that my sword won’t.” 

His mouth opens, whiskers bobbing as if to say more, but it clumsily closes again when a sound like the portal whooshing comes up behind them. Had the others come in? It couldn’t have been eight minutes already - no way. Akira hadn’t even been able to ask the actual questions. How had he wasted his time so poorly? By standing and watching the shadow sniff his way? He’s suddenly glad, even more so now, that Goro hadn’t been the one he chose to come in with him. That absolutely pathetic display had no right to be paid any mind to.

Ann and Ryuji jump into action besides Morgana before he can give them further instructions. “Carmen - agi!” Of course, the spell doesn’t hit, and its only purpose is put towards causing Niijima to frown upon them. It’s an amused sort of frown, if that was a possible emote, that the ghost thinks even Goro gulped at after seeing. 

Akira watches, rubbing the side of his elbow as the others jumped into a full battle organisation. Goro stands near the entrance, hand on his hip, cocked to the side. Instead of doing the responsible thing and chasing after the fight, he turns and clumsily stalks toward the detective. Goro’s eyebrow raises. Akira’s foot catches on a rusted track, distracted by the gleam of a Zio reflecting off of the sharp of Goro’s glove. They should get ready to grab the others and leave, surely, to avoid whatever he had been worried about when they had first arrived. His commanding instincts had been what told him to deny the violence initially, and he wasn’t exactly one to question gut feelings.

“What is it, Joker? Why did you need to speak with this shadow again?” Goro’s back straightens up against the wall, one hand pulling a gauntlet off to run fingers through his hair passive - aggressively. “I knew you were freaked out by what the idiots were talking about earlier, and yet you run to Niijima’s cognitive self instead of discussing it with me. Tell me why, exactly, you’ve been avoiding this.”

That was much more direct than Akira had hoped this would be - although the shudder that runs down his spine at the mocking use of the nickname isn’t all too unwelcome. The most he could do now, to ignore the confrontational tension brewing between them, was to turn back with his tail between his legs and alert Niijima’s shadow to just kill him. That wouldn’t exactly fix anything, though, so Akira decides on his second plan: one - upping Goro’s level of aggression. If he can act even more like a dick than the detective, then that would be an automatic win to his side - wouldn’t it? Letting him know just what he knew, writing out his demands, and barely giving Goro a moment to speak would be the pth to give him the most favorable result.

Akira has to actively stop himself from scratching the back of his head. It wasn’t totally ideal to have this conversation inside some lair deep in Mementos, with the sounds of a blazing war playing behind them, but it needed to be dealt with eventually. If this was the time that the universe allotted for them, then Akira supposed that was the end of it. 

His toe still aches from where it had been slammed into the concrete. “You said something during the fight, yesterday.” He’s not sure if he wants to keep going; the same burning, heavy feeling from earlier has settled back into his chest, and he's not sure he’ll even be able to think clearly while the fog overlaps with his train of thought. 

“Okay…? I’m sure I said many things, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a lot more specific.” Goro’s not even looking at him, and yet the ghost can feel the weight of his judgement. It’s heavy, even as he tries to convince himself that his friend is just as anxious as he is, underneath his poised mannerisms. There was a high possibility, he decides, that Goro had even a slight understanding of what Akira was hinting towards.

“We’ll, it’s not exactly a big deal - dunno why I’m even bringing it up now, anyways, but-”

Something gets thrown their way, a shoe or a helmet or something equally as solid, jolting the awkwardness of their behaviors out to make room for the noticeable surprise. “Please, feel free to continue.” Goro’s tongue drips sarcasm. Did he know where this was going? Had he been well aware that he had spewed that, yet still held no remorse for not acknowledging the obviously awful way it was affecting the younger boy?

“Well, uh -” God, at this rate the shadow was going to be dust before he got to his point. “I heard what you said about Shido and your mission.” Words stumble from behind his teeth, clenched and tight and aching. Goro’s posture rightens up completely, with no taste of the usual cockiness or power. Maybe he hadn’t known what he had said, in a fit of passion, a flight of hostility. “Why didn’t you tell me? I - no, I think I understand why you didn’t tell me; it’s just that I really didn’t want to find out… like that.”

Crow fiddles with the edge of his cape in a movement of pure, uncharacteristically unbarred emotion. There’s a pause, for both of them to breathe, before the dam is shut again and Goro’s hand is shoved against Akira’s chest. Of course - in the metaverse, anything goes; if that anything is his friend wanting to kill him, then so be it. That was just going to be how it was. 

“You do not get to question me.” There are tears in his eyes. They glisten and tremble as he shakes. His hand presses harder into the front of Akira’s body. “I haven’t gotten this far on anyone’s hand except my own. You may be here because of a lapse in my judgement,” his voice cracks at the obvious lie of that statement. Akira can fill in the truth, just from the way he’s noticed Goro’s expression lighting up whenever they were together, or from the gentle way his arms wound around Akira’s neck that one time - he’s lying for himself, obviously, but neither of them are taking to it easily.

The fight continues in the background, providing the soundtrack to their demise. “I just want to help you, and if you had told me earlier then maybe I could’ve been of some actual worth to you! But,” since he had found out accidentally, “it only seems like you’re still toying with me. You matter so fucking much to me, Goro; you don’t have to be scared, or angry, or whatever.” It’s churning into his chest now, burning into the pattern of Goro’s fingers sprawled over his heart. The eyes glaring into his still hold that ugly look in their depths, rolling the concept of forgiveness around in their sockets.

“We’ll talk later; I’ll tell you the full truth, when we’re both up to it.” The grip on his shirt lessens greatly, along with the strain inside his heart. “Let’s just get out of here for now, okay?”

Goro’s eyes soften, and Akira doesn’t want to pull himself away any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well uhh that was it! 
> 
> also i have a twitter - not exactly sure how to link that?


	14. shido is my least favourite enemy of like all time but i appreciate all of the trauma he gave goro - if only i knew how to write characters w complex emotions, then maybe id be able to portray that dynamic the way id rlly want to but dont think thats goin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gorogorogoro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH why did i pick tuesdays to post T.T

Morning - 4/26

Goro - in no way, shape, or form - would ever consider himself an ignorant person. His reaction to Akira’s blow up yesterday may have made it seem like he’d thought the whole situation from left field, yet he’d been expecting it for quite a while. Since meeting the younger boy, picking him up off of the street and tearing into the metaverse with him. Of course he knew that he had given up his quests true meaning on the spot, just like that, even through his haze of anger and disgust thrown towards Niijima’s shadow. Sure, it might not have been a part of his original plan - or even his recently developed plan of getting Akira to care about him as much as he did the other. That one couldn’t be written out just as easily, unfortunately. 

He did, however, have a schedule for today; one that didn't involve ditching anone ( anyone important ) or talking to powerful enemies that really shouldn’t have been kept alive or anything detrimental to the sole purpose of the mission. Only thing required now, technically, was to get the younger boy fully on board and accomplish their deadliest task yet.

All of that could wait until Akira woke up, obviously. With the other sprawled out on the bed, it was difficult for Goro to navigate the room with the light off; he had half a mind to force the other out of his deep slumber and kick him off his bed, and yet the detective keeps to his morning habits. Brushing his hair, cooking them breakfast, and gathering his sheets, spread on the dining table from the long nights before, into his briefcase. 

Today, Goro really wanted to show Akira his father’s palace. A place of pure, disgusting greed and twisted desires, molten and fried like the flesh of Shido’s workers. He’d been enough times that just the raw stench of remembering it made him sick; the vile puridity of Shido’s unworthiness reminded Goro of exactly why he had agreed to killing for him in the first place. Akira might not understand that just yet, but he couldn’t let that affect the end goal

The younger boy snored lightly. It had to be uncomfortable lying like that: his face smothered between two pillows, his torso flat against the bed while his legs were thrown to either side of the bed, tangled within the duvet. Goro tried not to focus on the drool drying to the sheets, or the way Akira’s sleep shirt was slipping off of his collarbones with a blaze of milk skin, or even the fluff of hair sticking up from the tossing and turning of an uneasy, deep rest. They had both needed the sleep - the ghost especially - after their impromptu visit to Mementos. Accidentally falling unconscious in the same bed, though, had definitely not been deliberate in the slightest. Even after coming back to reality, they had stayed up in Goro’s room, further discussing the new distrust between the two after the while spent without contact. (There may have been a little bit of hand - holding, when the detective’s eyes had begun to tear up at the mention of his younger years. That wasn’t the point; however much he wanted to focus his attention on the nice feelings that action had spread through his arm, into his chest. )

Goro reaches a hand out, bracing himself over the side of the bed with the other, to brush a thick section of bangs from his calm eyes. But, just as the tips of his fingers hits the coarse hair, his phone vibrates loudly on the nightstand. Quickly, he jumps away, removing his hold of the mattress to grab the device. Without looking at the caller ID, he hurried out of the room with the speaker to his ear. The door shut silently behind him, and he finally breathes. 

“Hello?” He keeps his voice to a low whisper. When there’s no quick reply, he pulls his hand away from his ear and checks the screen. Holy shit. Niijima Makoto? Goro hears a crackling from the other side of the call and nearly drops to his knees in a dramatic expression very fitting for such an early morning. 

“Akechi - san?” Makoto’s voice is rough with tears or anger, possibly from a crying session all night or a screaming match with her older sister. Was it possible that she hadn’t meant to call him? “I’m not meant to be sharing this with you, so please keep this between us. Sae has a suspect in the mental cases - two suspects, actually. But she’s acting weird; saying she’ll pay any cost to capture them, planning to use herself as bait, risking her safety..” The Niijima sisters were close, and Goro pales at the idea of Sae sharing her investigative findings with the other. It was clear from what he had heard the other day that the prosecutor suspected him and Akira, by whatever motives and whatever means, and that somehow she had been gaining lead information from their next - door neighbor. 

Was it so radical to assume that the woman could’ve been watching the boys through her sister? He couldn’t dismiss the idea that the student body president of Shujin was working with his worst mortal enemy. ( Sae wasn’t anywhere near being his actual worst enemy, yet he knew when to give credit when it was due. ) It was implied that Goro could never trust such a call from anyone, especially not from a Niijima - or even a Shujin student. Although, despite all the evidence stacked against this being a legit call for help, Goro had an odd, underlying gut instinct that this call really had stemmed from Makoto’s worry and agony over her sister. From what he knew of her, and her history, then it seemed rather likely that she had called him - not out of trust or secrecy - but because she quite literally knew of no one else who would possibly entertain the idea of helping her.

“Makoto - it seems that this might not be the best way for you to communicate with me.” He tries to sound as gentle as possible, coating his words in a thick wax that was sure to convince the girl - if this was indeed a masterful ploy, a trick to trap him in a lazy web - that he had absolutely no chance in hell to see through their plan. Because, surely there was one. “If there’s a time you would like to meet in person, then I’d be more than happy to oblige you there. Please remain calm and patient.”

There’s only breathing and maybe a thud from Makoto’s microphone. Goro stands still, though he’s now many more feet from the bedroom door than he was when he first stepped out. It wouldn’t do much damage for Akira to wake right now, but he wanted to at least try to let the guy sleep in a little more. Having him fret over the potential shitstorm brewing between them and the Niijima’s wasn’t exactly a feat Goro wanted to accomplish at this very second.

Shuffling, possibly, and the sound of a door opening and shutting. “Of course, Narukami - san; I can help you with your studying tomorrow afternoon in the library. The Shujin library, after school.” The call is hung up shortly after that, leaving Goro wondering how Sae got all the good acting genes and left Makoto with absolutely zero talent in that department.

Now, at least, he had a meeting set up for a day later - in enemy territory no less, but he was going to try to look past that. Until then, he’d have to look into Makoto’s involvement in the case with more effort and attention than he had put into the actual case itself - not that he’s openly admitting that. 

A knocking sound from the other side of the door, like Akira was fumbling for the doorknob with a sleepy touch. ( Goro finds himself smiling - softly - at the thought; he quickly revokes it when the other appears in the entryway. ) His hair is wild, the comforter pulled up around his shoulders to his ears. There’s a soft look on his face, and those grey tracks running down his face might be dried tears. Goro frowns, yet his heart glows. It seemed that the arguments as of late hadn’t done much in the way of ruining the light flutters that ran through his blood at the sight of the other. Truly ruesome. 

“Hey,” his voice is tender; he leaves his original position, half - cloaked by the dark of Goro’s bedroom, to settle his forehead on the detective’s shoulder. Goro can feel Akira’s breath in the crook of his neck. “Can you make pancakes today?”

“Ha, is that all you wanted?” Goro resists his hand’s urge to make a sanctuarical home in the ghost’s frizzy locks. He tries to sound as serious as possible with his next information dumping, but that’s a little difficult to achieve when there’s a literal human space heater trying to attach himself to his side. “We don’t have much to do today, but what we need done is still important. Can I count on you?”

Akira frowns - even though his face is hidden, Goro can tell just from the feel of the change in his expression against his skin. It was probably just a reaction to the detective making such a statement. They should make breakfast now, to get Akira out of his current half - hazed state completely, and then talk about the schedule. Maybe the ghost would be in the mood to swallow a bit of caffeine down, to increase proficiency. They’d be needing a shit ton of that - and SP - in Shido’s palace.

He heads to the kitchen while Akira goes to lay horizontally on the couch. The blanket drags behind his feet, in time with his sluggish movements, like a cape behind a regal. Goro wonders whether he even has the supplies for something like pancakes, or even if his fridge held anything remotely close to breakfast foods. Did it really matter? If Akia was going to be coming with him to Shido’s palace, then it was totally doable for them to simply grab something on the way to the entrance.

Morning - 4/26

Akira was tired. Exhausted. Half - dead, literally. When he’d woken up, all he had really been able to think about was the fact that he and Goro had accidentally ended up sharing a bed ( which had never happened before ) and his deep yearning for something to eat. Like pancakes, dripping with syrup. Maybe a lick of butter on the top. Bacon, if Goro was willing to use meat on a morning meal like this. Even as he rests on the leather couch, he can barely keep his eyes shut, hunger brewing up the excitement deep within his gut.

So when the detective reaches over the back of the sofa, a gentle tap to his shoulder, to tell him that they were heading out instead, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Though, they were still sharing time together, eating a meal. Akira got off his ass with the speed of some skilled gymnast, or a cheetah - type animal.

“Where do we plan on getting pancakes that could possibly rival yours, Goro?” Akira teases, pulling a jacket over his elbows. “LeBlanc doesn’t serve anything besides curry, you know.” Curry was great, Sojiro’s especially; yet - this time of the morning- the ghost worried that all of that spice would upset stomach for the rest of the day, into the afternoon and evening. Besides, Yongen - Jaya was far from the important location Goro was telling him about the night before.

Although he hadn’t really mentioned anything specific, the detective had told Akira where they would be headed, and the fact that it was somewhere deep inside the cognitive realm. That’s what excited him - but at the same time, he continued to worry about the lack of communication surrounding the mission. It was frightening. However, using the fantastical detective-ating skills he’d pick up from his partner with time, Akira had concluded that, based on the circumstance and past evidence, that this was somehow related to the details of Goro’s work that the ghost had uncovered recently. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Goro was taking him to an extremely secretive place in the metaverse only a day after they discussed his reasons for killing in Shido’s name.

He decides to look past it for now, watching over his friend’s shoulder as he searches for breakfast diners. If there really was some additional conspiracy to it, Goro dragging him out to the city to dispose of him or whatnot, then at least he was getting a meal out of it. 

“Will you at least tell me a few more things about the palace? I need to at least know if I should at least jump into Mementos real quick to get more of whatever affinity the majority of the shadows are weak to.” It was pointless to explain Goro’s own battle strategies back to him. Still, he had only just realised that he had no idea which personas he was holding at the moment would be effective in Shido’s palace. - assuming he was right in his deductions.

“That won’t be necessary,” Goro replies flatly. “There won’t be any situation in which we would have the employ a persona- by my hopes, at least.” If it was Shido, then wouldn't he jump at the opportunity to do his inner heart some damage? When it doesn’t seem like the detective’s going to say anything else, Akira sighs. Just when he thought he’d be able to get rid of some of the unnecessary tension settling in his gut, the adrenaline wrapping around his bones, they weren’t even going to be instigating any attacks in the hours that they were storming Goro’s literal fountain of spite for living. 

Akira fiddles with his fingers; were they just going to, what, scout it out? There was zero possibility that the detective hadn’t done than at least a hundred times over already. “Uh, ok. Anyways, do you think this is something we should involve the others in? I mean, they’re already tied to the metaverse, so it wouldn’t really be like we were uncovering top secrets - but if we’re going for, like, no discernible reason, then maybe we should at least tell them. Cause I think it would really be super great to be a real team, you feel me?” 

Sadly, Goro does not nod in reply, and instead leads them onto the train. He didn’t think his suggestion was that radical, actually - in fact, he had honestly considered it one of the more brilliant things that had come out of his mouth in the past month. 

Noon - 4/26

The palace is… a ship. Floating over a water - ruined Japan, it would seem, carrying only those deemed worthy by Shido as worthy of serving him. The rest of the country lay a drowned wreckage, acting just to disturb the path of the majestic ship. It really was quite ugly, and that rightfully explained the non stop fidgeting of the boy next to him. Pulling his gloves tighter to his wrists, tugging on his cape closer to his sides, and scrunching up his toes visibly inside his boots - Goro was obviously extremely uncomfortable in such an ugly environment, filled in filth and foul disease. So, as it seemed, they were very much not here for sightseeing. Not here for a fight, not here for the atmosphere; what was his partner planning?

They pass a few groupings of fancily - dressed, masked individuals standing by the entrance. Gossiping, or whatever disgustingly rich adults did in their off - time. Akira watched with a slightly nerved expression as one of the cognitive people pointedly stared at him and Goro, eyes narrow behind their feathered mask. 

“Are we...going in yet?” The stares were starting to feel uncomfortable, burning into the back of his neck and leaving an inch where their eyes met with his presence. There were sure to be many more of the shadow people inside, but at least he’d be free from having nothing to look at - besides them - except the mass body of acidic water surrounding the palace. Goro watches the floor shift with the waves and their footsteps.

He shakes his head. “No, we aren’t going in. I think this time it’d be better if we only sat outside the entrance. Now that you’ve seen for yourself the truth of how my father views his future peoples and their home, I hope you’re much more inclined to join my cause. On your own terms, this time.” Goro smiles; it only takes up a small portion of his cheeks, pained and a little superficial, but Akira likes it a whole lot better than his usual frown. When they make eye contact after the detective’s done speaking, it envelops more of his face to create a much stronger expression of real happiness. 

His mouth still tastes like blueberries, from the pancakes he had only about an hour prior. They sit near a railing at the front of the empty space, out of the way of the cognitive guests. Some of them have something shiny in their hands, an alcoholic drink, presumably. Goro’s sitting beside him, with a look on his face that read forced apathy. How many times had he forced himself into this palace, convincing himself that it didn’t affect him? 

He clears his throat, and the sound is remarkably similar to that of a dry windshield wiper. “Do you eventually plan to defeat his palace?” Akira thinks it’s a little weird, obviously, that it wasn’t written into the itinerary for this date, but if they could at least discuss the area a bit more - then it may start making a whole lot more sense as to why this was the path they were going about it.

“If you keep asking, then I’ll do it without you.”

“Hey! That’s mean. I’m only curious, since you think I’m incapable of understanding your higher - level logic.” The ghost replies with a playful grimace, frowning at the insinuation provided by Goro’s regular admittance that he had no requirement for any friendly help. It wasn’t unlike him, the independent body he was, to act like everything he did and had to do was solely on his shoulders. 

Goro slumps even further against the pole. His eyes truly are a shockingly like red to the blanket of destroyed sky surrounding them. Even though they weren’t doing anything taxing, the detective seemed absolutely exhausted - skin tight around his eyes, mouth dropping, cheeks blotchy. Akira holds a finger out, to trace a harsh line on the older boy’s forehead created by the stress and tension he held in his brow, but was halted by a grab to the wrist.

“I neglected to mention; Niijima called me this morning, asking for help desperately.”

“Niijima? How could you forget to tell me something like that?” The ghost’s surprise cuts through the air, with a tiny of undignified anger. Not anger at anyone in particular - just mild discontent at such an alarming statement being brought up just out of the blue.

Goro frowns, clearly taken aback by Akira’s shock; he seems to realise something quickly, though, and his frown straightens. “Oh, you’re mistaken - the younger Niijima. Makoto. Apologies.” He scratches the back of his neck in an extraordinarily casual fashion that completely contradicts the rest of his body language. “She was calling about Sae - san, though, saying how she was worried for her sister’s wellbeing, or something like that.”

“What would she have to worry about? We didn’t do her that much damage in Mementos, right?” Akira bites the side of his thumb, working his teeth under the nail. If that wasn’t it, then something else super bad must’ve happened to cause Makoto to call up Akechi Goro to vent.

“No, no. Sae’s putting too much of her health into work, supposedly; using all her power to catch her suspects in the - my - high profile case. That’s another concern, primarily of mine.” Goro sighs with a thick air of drama and annoyance. “I’m afraid Niijima - san suspects...us.”

None of this was quite adding up. How would Sae have ever seen Akira, at least for long enough to assume criminating evidence existed? “Well, uh, I see how that could be concerning.” His hands wring together. The action isn’t as comforting as he had hoped it would be - probably due to the damning atmosphere crushing him at the moment. If he just turned his head slightly, he was sure, he’d be making eye contact with at least half - a - dozen sketchy figures.

Makoto was a kind person, for sure, underneath her cold layer of an employed model of a student body president. Her caring for her older sister wasn’t what threw the ghost off so much; yet he couldn’t be exactly sure what had. Maybe it was the disturbing clause that the prosecutor, while overturning Goro’s establishment within the case, had fully read them both in such a short time window. Akira was supposed to be dead! How the hell was the woman expecting to make any sort of reliable claim if half of her main suspects are dead? Even with the knowledge of his name, his relationship with Goro, and possibly the circumstances of his death, there was absolutely no way to piece any of that together - coherently - without intimately knowing of the strange metaverse rules.

Though (and now he’s really thinking like the Detective Prince) he and Goro and Shido have known about the metaverse for awhile, and now there was a sudden outcropping of more people with the same ability. Was it that hard to believe that it may be possible for Sae to have some sort of connection to the realm as well? Sure, it was mighty improbable, but it would at least be the beginning to explaining how she came about them as the lead culprits. They hadn’t been much too careful in the past, despite how much Goro whined about safety and secrets. It wasn’t as tight of a seal as they would’ve wanted.

“So, Makoto wanted your help in… what?” Akira still has his back turned to the true palace entrance, but he attempts to turn around when Goro’s eyes go big and confused. At first, he doesn’t see anything out of place - the cognitive people that were annoying him earlier were still gossiping in their little groups, and the huge doors to the inside of the ship continued to stay propped open mockingly. 

But, then, with the slightest adjustment of his gaze, he spots a familiar looking stature; the one that had haunted his dreams, terrorized his sleep until his mind had just given up the fear. Though, he supposes that this man is also Goro’s father. They stand up quickly as soon as they both affirm their findings. 

Akira breaks the silence the moment he realises that Shido seems to still be looking for them. “Is this a normal thing, the palace ruler coming this far away from the treasure?” His voice remains tied at a whisper, though, shaking and barely audible to himself due to the blood rushing through his ears. 

“No.” Goro mouths his retort, half hidden behind the younger boy. “And shut up.” He sounds so scared, so lost in his own fears, that the ghost listens to him without much hesitation. His lips slam closed. He keeps an eye out for any further sign of Shido noticing them. Sure, they were still in his palace, but the implications of the palace ruler coming out to the outskirts of the realm, to where Goro and he sat, was utterly strange. Did he know they were there? Or might this just be some weird system he has in the metaverse, taking a tour of his own ship, watching the destroyed scenery pass them by with proud eyes? 

The idea of simply up and leaving seems to dawn on the both of them at the same time, lighting up an alternate pathway separate from their ideal situation. Running away from a potential fight is a valid thing to do, although neither of the boys find that solution all too satisfying. Seeing Shido’s shadow in the flesh, finally, sends chills up Akira’s spine - he knows that he should want to run away, to seek shelter and help in a safer place. Possibly with Goro. But, instead, he’s focusing on trying to understand exactly how the man is reacting to his surroundings.

He ignores the other shadows, picking at a spot on his suit. It would seem that - and maybe this was only due to his own hope - Shidowasn’t actually interested in them. While it had looked that way when he had first stepped out onto the front deck, Akira realises that they may have jumped the gun a little bit in their immense fear. Luckily, the guy was turned away at the moment, without so much of a sign that he had sensed them, and Goro lets out his battered sigh of relief. 

“Should we just leave now? I still want to hear more about Makoto’s call, though that can wait.” Akira checks his wrist for a watch that isn’t there. “Yes, that can definitely wait - please, let’s just leave.” He probably sounds a little - lot - more desperate than he would care to admit, but the pressure from the situation was currently mounting on him.

It was like those childish online games; almost completely spot on. Those where you play as either a girl or a boy in a class setting and have to make out behind the teacher’s back to get enough points without getting caught. No, he - of course - never played those games himself, only viewing the ads or watching Futaba jokingly beat them. Only now, in reality, he was stuck pinching the bridge of his nose impatiently while Goro struggled to decide between the two opposing choices. They could either begin valuing their lives and get the hell off the goddamn boat - or make use of their abundant nervous energy and tear the ugly brute apart. Tough decision; Akira couldn’t exactly blame Goro for needing a bit of time to decide, but it was imperative to the ghost that they got as far away from the cognition as possible. With his helpful intuitive nature, his eyes could quickly decipher exactly how Shido’s power and strength stacked up against theirs.

And there was absolutely, sincerely, no way that he was going to be moving in that direction any time soon. Not today, at least. Maybe it was entirely due to the fact that he was his friend’s father, or the fact that he had already been murdered by the man once and was not going to be having more of it, that. Well - he should start trying to convince Goro again to just press the button that would bring them closer to the entrance. Even if it was only a leap of a few twenty feet, it was less distance that they’d have to cover worrying about Shido’s gaze wandering over to them.

Before Akira had to wait another second, his selfish want moves to his sorry hand, and grabs Goro’s phone. Rips it out between his fingers. He taps the button with sheer practiced ease. With a shout from the detective, miffed, fog rolls around them and they’re deposited out of the palace entirely. Oh, Akira should’ve figured it, there was nowhere in that section of the metaverse that was closer to reality than the front railing of the ship.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Goro seethes, crossing his arms and leaning into Akira’s face. “I wasn’t decided yet.”

Akira has to stop himself from laughing; even through his mild anger he still finds the detective’s behavior funny. “You say that like you were ever going to decide.” Low blow? From Goro’s major eyebrow crease now permanently etching onto his forehead, it was definitely a low blow. ( He wouldn’t really consider either him or the other boy as immature or anything like that, but the combination of both of their rampant emotions sometimes grew too strong for either of them to be civil. )

It doesn’t seem like Goro’s going to dignify his attack with a counter response; Akira’s wondering if it’s too soon after his first visit to Futaba to try and go see her again at Sojiro - san’s house. Near the end of the visit, though, it had seemed as if she would be willing to open up to him a bit this time or at least hold a polite conversation with him. She, for sure, wouldn’t be as rude as Goro, or as smotheringly attractive. Not that he meant anything bad by that! It’s only that the other’s eyes were glowing with a certain dimming aggression and his teeth are still bared with his lips slightly drawn back and his bangs wrangled across his face as he sniffed passive - aggressively.

A nice move now would be to comfort Goro for a bit, and then alert him that he’d be going to Yongen - Jaya. That would be the nice thing to do. Even with that acknowledgement, he moves from his place across the alley from Goro - to grab his jaw, to pull him in as a muffled ( still angry ) gasp explodes from the other’s throat. This was an even nicer thing to do, the ghost realises now, and pushes in closer.

Despite Goro’s ever - present anger, the detective tilts his head down, drags his nails lightly over the spinal - bumps on the back of Akira’s neck, and shifts against the brick wall. It would seem as if his irascibility had transferred into a fierce, but sweet, passion towards the other. God. His skin was warm from the argument, his tough burning. It’s calming them down, thankfully, so that when they pull apart, the fire is no longer as biting. If only this was a tactic that he could use against the typical enemies.

They completely separate, chests heaving as their eyes flicker with each other’s gaze. Welp - Akira can’t help but be glad that he’d agreed to go to that palace, a sharp contrast to his panic from earlier. Although he has no clue what’s going on between them, it’s growing rather familiar, comfortable, on him. Even if it shouldn't, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it.

“I’m going to Futaba’s - uh, did you want to come w-”

“No.” His eyes widen and he clears his throat. “I’ve got work.” Uh. That was an acceptable excuse, Akira supposes. It might’ve been a tiny bit awkward with Goro and Futaba in the same room anyways, on account of the fact that he just remembered who had murdered her mom. And there was no proof that the girl wasn’t aware of her mother’s - hired - killer. So, just maybe, he should try and keep both of them separate. At least for now. If Goro wanted to finally act like he cared about his office attendance, then Akira would be totally fine going to Yongen himself, pretending nothing unusually grand had happened today. Sure.

Noon - 4/26

Goro didn’t have to meet Makoto until tomorrow afternoon, so he shoved those questions - and Akira’s concern - to the back of his mind. Now, he really was actually considering heading to work. Sae - san would be there and, even though he had most of the information he needed to evade her clutches, she still suspected them and that gauge was most likely to raise if he failed to make enough hours. Especially during a case like this, of his doing, where he’d already declared his dedication publicly. She didn’t need any other reasons to attempt and - would she happen to gather enough evidence, eventually, to arrest them? No, there was hardly a chance now that she had any substantial support backing her. Although he worried about her mention of Shido, he knew that his father wouldn’t do anything as drastic as to get rid of his political insurance. Goro was rising in popularity as of recent too, and that whole situation would read as everything but clean and pretty.

Really, the biggest thing as of now was making sure no one else got involved and that Akiradidn’t try anything else dumb. Objectively, every single action the ghost performed was entirely idiotic, especially whatever he was doing ath this very moment, but there was always the argument that the younger boy couldn’t exactly be faulted for that. 

He estimates, extremely accurately in his mind, that Akira is right around Sojiro’s house right now, trying to figure out how to get in without getting accused of breaking in, since - from what he’d heard - Futaba wasn’t one to meet a guest at the door and Akira wasn’t in the position to phase through the door as normal. Well, he was sure to hear about it all later tonight. After he got home from work, and finished school work, and firmly decided how long he wanted to go ignoring this newfound issue between them, and maybe a rerun episode of Featherman - then Goro would listen to Akira talk about anything he wanted for however long he wanted, and continue to pretend like he didn't care to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> futaba is hard to write so im not writing thst :( actually maybe i will idk depends on if im feeling nice <3
> 
> anyways! i just realised that i dont know how to write and that this was too much for me avzgshsbn ! i will finish it lol but uh im real sorry


	15. goro names the phantom thieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was short!! i rlly wanted it to end at exactly 100 000 words lol

Morning - 4/27

Akira, when he had gotten home the night before, had almost immediately attempted to convince Goro to make them hot chocolate. Spring weather was mostly dissipated, the breeze passing by in exchange for the awful temperance of a heavy summer, but fortunately a small bit of the cold front had stayed long enough for the ghost to feel a mild chill on his walk back from the train station.

The morning is always so silent, a sort of calm within the excitement and worry over the coming day. Akira, for sure, would never claim to be a morning person, but the soft sunlight flowing through the windows while he’s still waking up is always so welcome.

“Absolutely not. I’d have to clean the kettle, and pull out the mugs, and then…” Goro’s voice had dragged off at that point, counting the number of tasks he’d force himself to do if they just made a little bit of the drink. Even when Akira protested that he’d be the one to do the dishes - since it was an odd - numbered day, after all - the detective continued to plant his foot and mutter about always having to do everything. That might be true sometimes; alas, there were certainly exceptions. 

He’d gone to bed without his hot chocolate, and was now awake without it. He sat on the couch, digging his feet together, waiting for the other boy to come out of his rather grumpy morning mood. There wasn’t much to think about or do this early in the morning for a dead man, so Akira just sort of had to make do with checking out his surroundings.

The apartment, now that he’s really looking at it, has gotten rather crowded in just the last month. He couldn’t exactly recall going to the market to get that rug that laid under the living room couch ( though he knew for a fact that Goro never would’ve thought of picking out that shade of green in that texture ) or seeing the golden - plated bookends sitting on the sides of the shelves. When he had first “moved” in, dead and confused and angry and pained, Goro had had almost nothing in the apartment at all, spare his closet filled with twin trench coats and an always - made bed. It had seemed completely unlived in, to Akira, which was quite the feat considering how speckless his own parents had always kept their place, when he was growing up. 

Now, though, it seemed that that style had been fully forgone - luckily, the detective didn’t seem to be missing any part of it. Having him simply decorate the house without impartiality or a nod from Akira truly made it feel like this change was really just a spawn of a want for it, instead of a feeling that it was needed. 

“So, you’re meeting with Makoto today?”

“Yes.” A pause as Goro worked through his underlying implications for asking - in reality, Akira had only asked because he liked to know what all of his friends were doing for the day. “It would be too suspicious for you to tag along, unfortunately, but I’ll make sure to relay the topics covered back to you when we reconvene.” He’d spent much too long on school work last night, it seemed, since his mind and voice were still in a strangely academic standard. Akira wished the older boy had an off switch for stuff like that. (Although he didn’t quite mind it when Goro used that tone to talk about stuff he was actually into, like classical philosophy or some old children’s show. )

Akira pretended to act a little hurt by the fact that he couldn’t come with, and then went back to deciding who to assume as free today; with no phone, no way to contact anyone outside of his usual path, he was free to make educated guesses as to what everyone was doing today and where. Ryuji, for example, was either at school or skipping in that arcade on Central Street - while Ann was most likely in school, like the great student she was, or doing a scheduled modeling for some high - brand nearby, like the great model she was. Morgana was in LeBlanc, surely, or following one of the two around. It was always going to be hit or miss with him, it seemed.

That didn’t mean he’d have to be bored all day. He and Futaba had a talk yesterday, in fact, about making sure to use the metaverse to its full potential. She had taken a grasp of the cognitive world with a relative ease, not unlike the way soft butter goes on to bread. While she had accounted it for her mother’s research before she died, Akira was quite positive that most of her understanding came from the pure, unaltered fact that she was an absolute genius.

The smartest person the ghost was ever going to meet, surely. In computers and stuff of the sorts Futaba was an absolute beast, though, put her in a crowd or a situation that would require anything social and she’d be at a complete loss. It had seemed, when he went to hang out with her last night, that her anxiety in difficult scenarios had gotten even worse - to the actual extent that she hadn’t left her room in about half a year. Before that, she was at her uncle’s house - not a very nice man, if Akira’s recalling correctly - and, based on her expressions during that part of the conversation, he hadn’t allowed her to truly feel comfortable within strict solitude.

Goro was, of course, high on that list of the brightest people Akira spoke of as well - it could be argued that he was just as socially inept, though. He was to meet with Makoto later, which had to bring about a lot of anxiety, or some other negative emotions like that, only for the skepticism that she and Sae - san were separate in this entity. Akira didn’t know either woman well enough to decide if this was some elaborate scam or if she could really be trusted. Sae knew much more than she should, surely even more than she was letting on, and that was the root of the greater negative emotes Goro was expressing.

“Wait, do you think we can do something today? Like, all of us?” Akira still felt bad about sort of pushing the other three into the metaverse with him, just for the mission to turn out as botched as it did. “For coffee, or something.” The detective was likely to say no, of course, but it wasn’t like the ghost needed permission or anything - he did need to borrow his laptop real fast to shoot out the email to the others, though, in the case that Goro did agree to join them.

A shrug, a pause, and a sigh later, it seems that the other has reached his conclusion. “Sure, why not? LeBlanc again, I presume. I’m meeting Makoto in,” he raises his phone from his pocket to check the exact time. “Exactly nine hours and thirty - six minutes. Ah, twenty - three if I want to be there before she is.” 

Akira nods, pursing his lips. While he couldn’t exactly tell if Goro was planning on one - upping the Niijima’s punctuality or simply wanting not to be the one waited on. “Solid. So, uh, do you want to call them or should I?”

Noon - 4/27

Wondering if it was a good or bad thing to be part of the few customers that were quite potentially keeping Sakura - san’s cafe in business, Goro holds the door open for the rest of the teens. Like a gentleman, Akira reminds him. That concept is resentful in this moment, with Sakamoto avoiding his eyes and Takamaki being a little too forward with the eye contact.

“What’s it now?” The stupid little cat whines, stretching against the base of the counter. They hadn’t had to call for Morgana - he had just been at the cafe in the first place. Despite his first reading of the owner, it seemed as if he was actually serious about treating the pet nicely. 

“What’s it to you?” The blond snarks loudly, garnering a strange look from the man behind the counter. ( That was slightly odd, Sakura not being able to hear Morgana. Sure, Goro had better to do than speculate about these types of things, but from what Akira had told him about his early morning visit here a couple days ago, it had definitely seemed as if the older man might’ve had some sort of connection to the metaverse. )

They sit at a booth in the middle, Goro standing before them. While he wasn’t actually sure what Akira had wanted to discuss, he for sure knew that he wouldn’t want to be squashed into a booth with any of the others beside him. Them knowing about the metaverse was bad enough, and he didn’t know how he would react if the ghost decided to tell them some other information about his - their - quest. Kamoshida’s palace, surely, was adventure enough for them; if Akira was planning anything remotely close to what Goro thinks he’s planning, then he’s going to have to get out of the country for a while.

Takamaki, with a sweet expression but cutting eyes, watches the ghost pull a folded pamphlet out from his back pocket. It seems to be some sort of advertisement for an important figure in the artist world; Goro hadn’t been aware that Akira was into modern exhibits - he’d never mentioned anything of the sort. Sakamoto appears just as appalled by the suggestion.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on going to that crap show!” He’s tone makes it sound like just thinking any longer about the medium would destroy the rest of his day. 

Akira shakes it head rapidly, unfolding the paper out with top speed and tossing it across the table. “No, read it! I don’t know who wrote it but it has to be someone who knew about Kamoshida’s change of heart - right?” He looks to Goro, as if the detective would have some sort of theory in this situation. He very much does not; not out of lack of skill, no, but out of lack of information. “They say that the artist, Madarame or something, is this really bad guy who steals ideas from the students he takes in.”

“Ugh, another crappy adult?” Takamaki shudders, shifting in her seat to pick absently at a spot on the table. “Like the world needs any more of those - what does the note say about what they want us to do? Do they know about the other world?” 

Of course they didn’t; Goro couldn’t even say that that was a valid concern at the moment. If the note really was real, as he and Akira suspected it to be, then it was probably just someone with connections to Shujin Academy and had looked into the circumstances surrounding Kamoshida. There had been a couple news reports about the incident, namely focusing on the students reaction to the events. How the stranger had gotten the note to one of the culprits, however, was the exact concern they should be worrying about now. It was sketched onto one of those exhibit advertisement museum marketers pass out in wealthier, older populations. 

“He just asks us to ‘Steal his teacher’s heart,’ which is what we wrote on that calling card. I doubt he knows how we do that.” Akira looks through the note again after Sakamoto has read it, before handing it to Takamaki. He must presume that Goro’s too busy trying to solve the puzzle before he even opens the box to read it. (That assumption would be mostly right, but the suspense was slowly starting to get to him.)

The girl seems a much tougher skeptic than the boy. “How do we know that this is, like, real? This person could just be having a fight with a parental figure and is thinking irrationally. Obviously we’re going to need a lot more information before pursuing Madarame as a potential next palace ruler.”

She was rather bright, Takamaki. That was exactly what Goro had been thinking, actually - from a teenager that wrote an anonymous note asking a deal such as this. How’d this person know to ask in this way, or that quite an illustrious group like the one they were thinking of really existed?

“Madarame is a powerful figurehead in the art world. His exhibition in the coming weeks will prove a lot of people speaking of him. Once we find proof that this writer is, in fact, not speaking fictitiously, then we should jump to the opportunity.” Goro taps his fingers against the wood, keeping his voice low. “Taking down someone influential yet unimportant to society may be argued as a waste of time, but I believe that he could lead you further.”

He’s speaking to Akira, at that last part. Akira’s success was much derived from battle experience and the knowledge that what he was doing in the metaverse could affect things in reality. A product of not being visible after his death, it would seem. 

“No, I think, Akechi, I think we should proceed with caution. If we gained enough recognition just from defeating Kamoshida, what’s going to happen if we take down a famous artist dude?” Sakamoto provides a valid point, but the reverence of it is muted by the complete idiotic prescence of the rest of him. 

Sakura - san has undoubtedly heard bits and pieces of their conversation by this moment, still standing behind the counter with the practiced ignorance of a much older, more mature, man. Goro has learned to value that trait in an outsider; it meant that they were much less likely to overhear something that they shouldn’t. Less cleanup for him, as well. 

In any terms, the other boy immediately going against his suggestion should be concerning - yet, some mildly mannered part of him believes that this discourse may be a good thing. Less and less has he been thinking of getting rid of them just for knowing of the metaverse, and instead working through plans on how to possibly integrate them into his plan with as much self - benefits as he can withstand. Besides, it has seemed as if Akira had already put his trust into these imbeciles before consulting Goro, so it would be rather hard to go against the ghost’s gut feeling now in this situation.

“Alright. Does that mean you’re putting yourself on the museum information team?” Goro tilts his lips in a teasing smirk. Of course it didn’t mean that. “It’d be best to take that job seriously.” With the detective’s luck, he wouldn’t have to go to the art exhibit under any circumstances, even though his skills would most likely be the most valuable to everyone at the moment. They couldn’t always rely on him and his expertise, after all. 

Akira stares pensively at the air between the two, as if disheartened by the fact that he and Sakamoto didn’t seem to be getting along at first glance. Goro thought quite differently, actually; the fact that he hadn’t thrown them all into the metaverse and summoned Loki there way was a healthy sign - he really does think so. It doesn’t quite go unnoticed, though, when the ghost frowns under his hand and looks back to the handwritten note.

“From what I looked into, Madarame is really admired in the art community, so us doing anything without apparent evidence would probably upset a lot of people.” Akira scratches the back of his head, looking at Morgana, who’s currently lounging around on the tile. “So, I think our primary plan should first be to find whoever’s asking us to do this, and then we can snoop around from there.” 

Takamaki’s eyes screw up for just a second, and Goro contemplates whether the sudden expressive change was caused by the boy’s take of leadership or that odd light that emitted for just a split second. He hadn’t seen where it was coming from, on account of his immovable focus on the note. When he does look up though, Morgana is making the most exasperated face that he had ever seen on a cat. Like, how was it even possible for his whiskers to shrivel up in that direction? Goro couldn’t be sure.

He was about to ignore their reactions, turn around and act like he wasn’t the tiniest bit confused, when he looked over to see Akira floating through the bench. God - now? It, at the very least, meant that the ghost could attend his meeting with Makoto later in the day, but it also meant that they would have to make absolutely certain that Sakura - san hadn’t been looking over here at all in the past few minutes. Even if he hadn’t seen Akira’s slow shift into transparency, it would still be hard to explain how he had left so suddenly.

Through the obvious dissonance that it had put on the conversation, Akira shrugs and stands up to float at the end of the table with Goro. “No big deal. We can either find the guy without me -” which, to be fair, would be safer, especially if they found a way to conceal the rest of their identities. “Or we wait until something big enough happens in the metaverse to change me back.” They certainly had quite a bit of time, but if they wanted to defeat Madarame by the time before or after his exhibit, then maybe it would be best to carry on without Joker.

“For real, dude! We’ll be like real spies - or, uh, ninjas!” Sakamoto shouts before anyone can put a hand over his mouth. “Just as much a ghost as you are, man!” He’s rather lucky that Akira rarely took offense to quips like that, or the athlete might just be cut from any further ‘spying.’

Takamaki flips a ponytail over her shoulder, laughing into her other hand. “Like Phantom Spies! Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?” Goro definitely does not think so.

The detective sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Where did they get their naming sensibilities? “Phantom Spies” was much too on the nose to even be considered a serious organisation. “If you’re going to such a ghastly themed name, then I insist you at least change spies to thieves; it has a much more mischievous air to it.” Although he might regret giving them that advice in the future - near future - it made him feel much better about their state of affairs that he wasn’t going to be saddled with such a poor decision.

A round of ‘ah’s going around the table, ending with Goro up and leaving the cafe. They had stayed a little longer than he had planned, and his meeting with Makoto was arriving soon. If he wanted to go to the school with enough time to look around a little, even to get there before her. Since she practically lived in Shujin’s library, though, that might be a little tough.

Afternoon - 4/27

Akira couldn’t deny the fact that he was at least a little bit glad to be able to tag along on this little side quest. Makoto was an intriguing character to him; even if she had no place in the metaverse, he still carried this gut feeling that she would be the one to have some great insight, something that would save the day. She just had that sort of energy, nothing too tangible, of course.

“Did she sound okay over the phone?” It was a little alarming to the ghost that Makoto hadn’t tried to contact Goro again at all today, but perhaps that was due to the fact that she didn’t see any point to it. She knew that the detective would arrive just when he said he would, and they would have their talk exactly as she laid it out. Whatever the younger Niijima had to say would be critical, from what he heard Goro mumbling, in disclosing their true safety regarding Niijima - san’s slow gain to them.

His friend was a rather dramatic person, whether he acknowledged it or not - yet even still, his admittance that they were in the realm of potentially losing this race was to be a major factor in Akira’s willingness to fully accept the way things were going. Makoto had seemed weirdly distressed on the phone, according to Goro, which was totally out of the norm regarding his interpretation of her character. No way would she call up her older sister’s coworker slash work rival and ask for his help if she was completely fine. Sure, she had hidden behind the excuse that she was just entirely lost in worry for Sae - san, but Akira couldn’t help but think that was only a part of it. She was behind Shujin essentially, despite only commanding a position of student body president, and he was sure that everyone involved was aware of her absolute brilliance.

If there were ever a pair ( besides him and Goro ) that could devise such a plan and take down a couple of magical murderers, then Akira’s money was fully pushed towards the Niijima sisters.

“Stay behind something, don’t interrupt me, and remember that there’s a possibility that she can see you.” Goro had a point. When they had run into her at the cemetery, and she had been able to see him when he thought he was a ghost, that fear had been brought alive. There was that little thought in Akira’s mind that she would be able to see him, without entering the metaverse first, like how Ryuji saw him right before. She emitted a blue, just like all the others on his team - this might be the perfect time to check if that was only a trick of the light, or truth.

Akira nods, already planning out how he was going to keep an eye on the conversation. If Makoto had any of the useful information that would prove to work for them, in regards to their fight with Niijima - san. He can barely make out her shadow along the bookshelf in the very back, and he finds his breath quickening. How was Goro so sure that this wasn’t a trap? Neither of them knew the girl very well - not well enough to place their lives in her hands for a moment when she might not even have anything to tell them.

They’re making their way over to her before Akira can protest any of his worries out loud.

“Akechi - kun! I’m sorry for this; I know this is probably not an ideal situation for you.” She puts a book back onto the shelf, looking around for a second before continuing. Was she that paranoid about this? The way her eyes had stuttered over a nearby student that was only completing school work at the next desk screamed of just how worried she was for this discussion. “How can I prove to you, right now, that I’m not working with my sister? I’m not working with you either.”

Not working for either side? That was even more concerning than her distress over the phone. How were they supposed to trust her if she could potentially be sharing every detail with Sae - san? Well, Akira thinks solemnly, at least she was letting them know outright instead of hiding it from them. And, besides, Niijima - san was getting really close with her investigation - from what he’s heard - and Makoto was their only assistance right now. Her stating to be unbiased could prove beneficial to them in the long run, after all.

“It’s fine, I don’t require you to prove anything to me right now.” In no way did that mean Goro trusted her. From the firm tone and clenching of his fists, Akira can tell that it only serves to insist that Makoto would end up dead if that didn’t end up being true. “Just tell me what you needed to say and then we can start with some sort of plan. I trust that you were telling the truth when you called me over here.”

Akira’s up against the bookshelf in front of them, watching through a gap between two large encyclopedias. The detective is obviously trying to hide a sort of impatience that didn’t normally come through his expression. Goro was scared, undoubtedly so. That was certainly out of the norm, even for a situation like this; the knowledge that he could be playing right into the enemy's hands was the defining thought that seemingly drove the other boy into demanding Makoto talk.

Makoto doesn’t seem as alarmed as Akira worried she would be, though, so that’s positive. “Right. I came upon my sister’s recent research yesterday, and some of the things she had written were really… concerning. If you and your accomplice really are behind the mental shutdown and psychotic breakdown incidents, that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, I’m admitting to needing your help.”

“It… doesn’t matter to you?” Goro cocks his hip to the side, crossing his arms. “Alright. That doesn’t appear to have any adverse effect on our deal, so please carry on.”

“She speaks of another world, which is sure to invoke a strong curiosity in anyone who hears of it.” Makoto stays justifying her own emotions, in rushed words and raised hands. “I was wondering if you had any additional information about it. Since you’re on the case as well, are you not?”

Akira remembers meeting both of the Niijimas and immediately noticing the stunning resemblance between the two. The way she had worded the question, making it painfully obvious that she didn’t trust Goro either, and the fact that she knew, somehow, to ask him about the metaverse and his involvement within the case. That last part was always a bit of a touchy subject, though.

“I don’t know anything about our investigations revealing the suspects using ‘another world’ to commit their crimes.” Goro pauses, presumably to give some air or illusion of wonder. “Perhaps it is an allegory to some gang that is involved? Or maybe a code for a powerful weapon that’s being used. I highly doubt, either way, that your sister is actually referring to whatever it is you’re thinking of in her notes.”

Makoto sighs, brushing her bangs out of her eyes in a smooth motion with her fingertips. “While I have to agree that your alternate ideas are rather insightful, I fail to understand where exactly I said that her notes stated this other world was how the criminals were avoiding capture with their crimes. However, I may just be looking too hard for something that isn’t-”

“Oh! My apologies for confusing you, Niijima - kun.” A powerful smile crossing over his face as he skillfully attempts to deceive the other. “I had only assumed that that was the direction Sae - san, and you, were to continue to pursue. There wasn’t a different possibility in my head, for another world being impotent to her investigation.” Goro was quick with it, turning his mistake around on its head to insult Makoto’s intelligence. Alira felt a rather strong pity for her, but only for a moment. She was completely capable of seeing right through him and - as much as he feared the thought of being discovered and jailed - he could recognize her steady resolve through this moment strengthening.

Students are slowly exiting the library, but the two of them are still talking in hushed tones and muted expressions. The worry Makoto had expressed yesterday, for her sister, doesn’t seem to be fully present right now. Akira’s not sure what is. 

“Look - I said I didn’t care whether or not you were actually behind all of this, but you should know that my sense of justice isn’t going to rest once I know for sure,” she reiterates, making sure once more that Goro knew better than to expect anything akin to a mutual relationship, or anything else besides hey telling him of Niijima - san’s behaviors.

Goro nods, and Akira decides that he’d rather listen to a recap of the conversation later. Makoto, if she were really going to try and blackmail them or something equally as illegal and totally heartwarming, would choose to do it soon - judging by his calculations of her character - and he didn’t exactly want to experience that first - hand. Did that sound bad? He didn’t actually care, though, since it would affect him super negatively either way. And he would easily choose to deal with it later, if he can. ( which he totally can, deal with it later. )

Afternoon - 4/27

God - was she serious? Goro was honestly surprised that Makoto hadn’t appeared with some severe ultimatums, or pulled a recorder out at the end. Now, that didn’t mean he was totally convinced that she hadn’t had either of those things planned or that he put it past her to do such a thing - yet by this point, it was hard trying to persuade himself that it had ever been a trick. Talking with her had assured him of her genuine concern for Sae - san and that the sisters weren’t exactly working together.

He and Akira had left Shujin Academy soon after the library had completely emptied, heading to the train station. As they had agreed with the others while at the cafe, they were to meet up in the Teikyu building accessway. Of course, he couldn’t feign happiness at the idea, but the ghost had been so into the idea of them establishing a permanent hideout as soon as possible. LeBlanc had been a strong contender, as did Shujin’s rooftop, but Sakura - san would eventually grow wary of their gatherings and there were too many foes at the academy for the school to ever be a safe place.

“Do you think Makoto will ever go to the metaverse with us?” It’s such an out - of - the - blue question that the detective almost stops in his tracks. Niijima Makoto? A metaverse - user? While Goro really wills his mind to be entirely opposed to the suggestion, a part of him wonders how she’d be as a teammate. If - he ever wanted a team, of course.

Goro can’t tell if the better course is to ignore the rambling, deny his curiosity that is rapidly growing equivalent to Akira’s. “That’s absurd; if she ever were to enter the metaverse, against all odds and my beliefs - I feel that it would certainly not be with us.” And, by that, he means either with the others ( as it is inevitable that they slowly turn against him and Akira ) or with her sister, using the metaverse along with some police force.

Akira chews his cheek, drawing his legs up. He’d sat down near the railing, waiting for the others to arrive a short time ago, and it seemed like he was just starting to get comfortable. Eventually - while Goro still wasn’t sure what they were to be discussing - some conversations would have to be had. It was already becoming much too late to get rid of the random metaverse users as he had initially planned and desired, so it seemed like there was going to have to be some sort of work done to get them off their backs. 

Although he was well aware that they must be ready for anything, secretly he was sort of hoping that everything went okay. Niijima catching them was the bad ending he had spent the whole game trying to avoid; he’d make sure to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk writing Makoto is hard :( 
> 
> also! next chapter might be pushed back a week so i can catch up on school work sorryyyy


End file.
